
aass_JES.£5aS" 

Ii57l 



1790> 




WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. 



^syy,^^-^ SHAKESPEARE'S 



COMEDY OF 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Edited, with Notes, 



/ 



WILLIAM J: ROLFE, A.M., 

^ FORMERLY HEAD MASTER OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, CAMBRIDGE, MASS. 



WITH ENGRAVINGS. 



^M 




\^ 



NEW YORK: 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN SQUARE. 
187 I. 



4 

?7l 



Aa'K 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 

Harper & Brothers, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



PREFACE. 



This book was planned, and nearly completed, more than three years 
ago (soon after my edition of Craik's " English of Shakespeare" was pub- 
lished), but was laid aside for other work, and not taken up again until 
the past summer. Meanwhile, the notes were used with classes in school, 
and they have since received such revision as was suggested by that ex- 
perience, and by further study of Shakespeare. 

My aim, briefly stated, has been to edit this English classic for school 
and home reading in essentially the same way as Greek and Latin classics 
are edited for educational purposes. The chief requisites in such a book 
are a pure text (expurgated, if necessary), and the notes neededfor its 
thorough elucidation and illustration. These I have done my best to 
furnish. 

The text is that of the Folio of 1623, carefully collated with the quar- 
tos and all the modern editions that have any critical value. Of recent 
editors, I have been most indebted to White and Dyce. 

In the notes I have preferred to err, if at all, on the side of fullness. 
Notes should never furnish what the student may reasonably be required 
to find out for himself. So long as they give him new work to do, in- 
stead of doing his work for him, there had better be too many of them 
than too few. The teacher will know how much of the possible labour it 
is expedient to exact. 

Many of the notes are original ; the others have been drawn from 
every source at my command. I have named my authorities in two sets 
of cases : those in which I felt that I ought not to take the credit due to 
others ; and those in which I did not care to be held responsible for oth- 
4tW ers' opinions. To the " Clarendon Press edition," which came into my 
hands while revising the notes for publication, I have given credit in 
every instance in which I have drawn directly from it. That excellent 



vi PREFACE. 

little book has the same general purpose as this of mine ; but, from my 
experience as a teacher, I did not consider it exactly suited to the wants 
of our cis-Atlantic schools. I venture to call attention to the " Critical 
Comments on the Play" — for which I can take no credit to myself — and 
to the illustrations — for which I am indebted to the liberality of the pub- 
lishers — as features peculiar to this edition, that may make it both more 
attractive and more useful. 

Here and there in the text I have omitted a few lines that might be 
deemed indelicate. In some instances I have preferred to strike out a 
little more than was necessary, rather than to mar the metre or to change 
a single word that Shakespeare wrote. 

In the notes, frequent references are made to my edition of ''The Eng- 
lish of Shakespeare." These are mainly for the teacher, who can use 
them, so far as they suit his purpose, in the way of oral instruction. I 
would, however, allow the student the opportunity of looking them up 
for himself; and, if he is able to do it with advantage, it may be well to 
require it. 

With regard to other books of reference for the student, the more the 
better. There should be at least one standard edition of Shakespeare's 
Complete Works (if only one. White's would be my own choice), and 
Mrs. Clark's Concordance. Add to these, If possible, one of the reprints 
of the Folio of 1623 — either Staunton's photolithographic fac-simile, or 
" Booth's" edition (now published by Routledge), which costs much less, 
and for practical purposes is quite as good — and the revised edition of 
Abbott's " Shakespearian Grammar." 

Cambridge, Oct. 15, 1870. 



CONTENTS. 



The Life and Works of Shakespeare 9 

Introduction to The Merchant of Venice 17 

I. The History of the Play 17 

IL The Sources of fHE Plot 19 

III. Critical Comments on the Play 21 

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 39 

Act I 41 

" II 56 

" III 78 

" IV 98 

" V 114 

Notes 125 




MONUMENT AT STRATFORD. 




JOHN Shakespeare's house in henley street. View from an old Print. 

THE LIFE AND WORKS 

OF 

SHAKESPEARE. 



William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, 
in the county of Warwick, England, in April, 1564. The rec- 
ord of his baptism bears the date of April 26th, and as it was 
an old custom to christen children on the third day after birth, 
the tradition which makes his birthday the 23d has been com- 
monly accepted. His father, John Shakespeare, seems to 
have belonged to the class of yeomen, and to have been a 
glover by trade. His mother, Mary Arderne, or Arden, came 
of a good old Warwickshire family, and brought her husband 
a considerable estate as dower. He was for many years an 
alderman, and twice filled the office of High Bailiff, or chief 
magistrate, but later in life he appears to have become quite 
poor. 



lO 



THE LIFE AND WORKS OF 



Of a family of four sons and four daughters, William was 
the third child, but the eldest son. He was in all probabili- 
ty sent to the free-school of his native town, and after leav- 
ing school may have spent some time in an attorney's office. 
But in .1582, when he was only 18, he married Anne Hath- 
away, of the parish of Shottery, near Stratford, a woman some 
eight years older than himself. A daughter was soon born 
to him, and, two years later, twins — a boy and a girl. 




ROOM IN THE HOUSE IN HENLEY STREET, WHERE SHAKESPEARE WAS BORN. 



As nearly as can be made out, it was in the next year, 1586, 
that Shakespeare, then 22, went to London, where he became 
first an actor, then a writer for the stage. As an actor he 
seems to have made no special mark, but as a writer he very 
soon distinguished himself, and in a few years had won the 
foremost rank among the dramatists of his time. In 1598, 
Francis Meres, in his IVifs //'^(^j-^/rv, speaks of him as "the 



SHAKESPEARE, 1 1 

most excellent among the English for both kinds of tragedy 
and comedy." His works became not only widely popular, 
but they brought him special marks of favor and approval 
from Queen Elizabeth and her successor, James, and gained 
for him the patronage and friendship of some of the most ac- 
complished men of rank of that day. 




INNER COURT OF THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL, STRATFORD. 

But while thus prosperous- and honored in London, Shake- 
speare continued to look upon Stratford as his home. There 
he had left his wife and children, and thither, after he had 
secured a competency, he returned to spend the evening of 



12 



THE LIFE AND WORKS OF 



his days in quiet. It was probably about the year 1612 that 
he settled down in Stratford, on an estate purchased some 
years previous. His wife was still living, and also his two 




CHANCER OF STRATFORD CHURCH. ' 



SHAKESPEARE. 13 

daughters, of whom the elder, Susanna, was married to Dr. 
John Hall, in 1607 ; the younger, Judith, to Mr. Thos. Quin- 
ey, in 16 16. His son, Hamnet, had died in his twelfth year, 
in 1596. 

Shakespeare died at Stratford, as already mentioned, on 
the 23d of April, i6i6j and he lies buried in the parish 
church there. 

The first work of Shakespeare's which was printed with his 
name was the poem of Venus afid Adonis, which appeared in 
1593. In the Dedication to the Earl of Southampton the 
author styles it "the first heir of his invention." In 1594, 
The Rape of Lucrece was published. Both these poems were 
reprinted several times in the poet's lifetime. His only oth- 
er works, besides the Plays, are The Passionate Pilgrim, a 
small collection of poems, first printed in 1599, and his Son- 
nets (154 in number), with a poem entitled A Lover's Com- 
plaint, which appeared together in 1609. 

The first edition of his collected Dramatic Works contain- 
ed all the Plays generally included in modern editions, with 
the exception of Pericles, and was published in a folio vol- 
ume, in 1623, or not till seven years after his death. It was 
.put forth by two of his friends and fellow actors, yohn Hem- 
inge and Henrie Condell, and the title-page declares it to be 
printed " according to the true original copies." The preface 
also condemns all preceding editions of separate plays* as 
" stolen and surreptitious copies, maimed and deformed by 
the frauds and stealths of injurious impostors," while it claims 
that the publishers of this volume had the use of the author's 
manuscripts. They probably had the use of such of his pa- 
pers as were in the possession of the Blackfriars Theatre, to 

* Eighteen of the Plays are known to have been separately printed, 
some of them more than once, in Shakespeare's lifetime. Othello was also 
printed separately in 1622. All these editions are in quarto form, and are 
commonly known as the old or early quartos. 



14 



THE LIFE AND WORKS OF 



which they, Hke himself, belonged. The volume, however, ap- 
pears to have had no proper editing, and every page is dis- 
figured by the grossest typographical errors. While it is the 
earliest and the only authentic edition of the Plays, it cannot 
be accepted as anything like an infallible authority in all 
cases for what Shakespeare actually wrote. 




^:^%iii^ 



^f^^^f,W^^J< 



STRATFORD CHURCH, WEST END. 



«?^^^^'5!?«?t -^-^ 



■■<?-S\ 



The volume just described is commonly known as the "first 
folio." A second folio edition, including the same plays, ap- 
peared in 1 63 2.* It contains some new readings, which are 



SHAKESPEARE. 



15 



probably nothing more than the conjectural emendations of 
the unknown editor. 

A third folio edition was issued in 1664. This contains 
the thirty-six Plays of the preceding folios, with Pericles and 
six dramas* not included in the modern editions. A fourth 
and last folio reprint followed in 1685. 




HOUSE IN HENLEY STREET, ABOUT 182O. 

These four folios were the only editions of the Plays brought 
out in the 17th century. The i8th century produced a long 
succession of editors — Rowe, Pope, Theobald, Hanmer, War- 
burton, Johnson, Steevens, Capell, Reed, Malone, and Rann. 
In 1803 appeared what is known as "Reed's Second Edition 
of Johnson and Steevens," in twenty-one volumes, in which 
were incorporated all the notes of the preceding editions. 

* For an account of these and other plays which have been ascribed to 
Shakespeare, as well as for a fuller description of these ear'y editions of 
his works, see Craik's English of Shakespeare (Amer. ed.),pp- 5 ^^^- 



i6 



THE LIFE AND WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE. 



This was followed in 182 1 by what is now the standard " Va- 
riorum edition," also in twenty-one volumes, mostly prepared 
by Malone, but completed and carried through the press by 
his friend Boswell. The most important English editions of 
more recent date are those of Knight, Collier, Singer, Staun- 
ton, Dyce, Clark and Wright, and Halliwell. The only Amer- 
ican editions of any critical value are Verplanck's (1847)^ 
Hudson's (1855), and White's (1857-1865). ^ 




STRATFORD CHURCH, EAST END, WITH CHARNEL-HO.USE. 




ARMS OF JOHN SHAKESPEARE. 



INTRODUCTION 

TO THE 

MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



I. THE HISTORY OF THE PLAY. 

The Merchant of Venice is the last on a list of Shakespeare's 
plays given by Francis Meres in his Palladis Tamia, which 
appeared in 1598. In the same year it was entered as fol- 
lows on the Register of the Stationers' Company : — 

"22 July, 1598, James Robertes.] A booke of the Mar- 
chaunt of Venyce, or otherwise called the Jewe of Venyse. 
Provided that yt bee not prynted by the said James Robertes, 

B 



1 8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

• 
or anye other whatsoever, without lycence first had from the 

right honourable the Lord Chamberlen." 

The company of players to which Shakespeare belonged, 
and for which he wrote, were " the Lord Chamberlain's Ser- 
vants ;" and the above order was meant to prohibit the pub- 
lication of the play until the patron of the company should 
give his permission. This he appears not to have done 
until two years later, when the following entry was made in 
the Register : — 

"28 Oct., 1600, Tho. Haies.] The booke of the Merchant 
of Venyce." 

Soon after this entry, the play was published by Heyes, in 
quarto, with the following title : — 

" The most excellent Historic of the Merchant of Ve?iice, 
With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the lewe towards the 
sayd Merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh : and the 
obtayning oi Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath 
beene diners times acted by the Lord Chamberlai?te his Seruants. 
Written by William Shakespeare. AT LONDON, Printed 
by I. R., for Thomas Heyes, and are to be sold in Paules 
Churchyard, at the signe of the Greene Dragon, 1600." 

Another edition, also in quarto, was issued the same year, 
by Roberts, with the following title : — 

" The excellent History of the Mexchunt of Venice. 
With the extreme cruelty of Shylocke the lew towards the 
saide Merchant, in OMtting a iust pound of his flesh. And the 
obtai?wig of Portia, by the choyse of three caskets. Written by 
W. Shakespeare. Printed by y. Roberts, 1600." 

The play was not reprinted until it appeared in the folio 
of 1623. In that edition there are but few variations from 
the quartos. 

There is good reason to believe that the play was written 
and acted as early as 1594. In Henslowe's Diary, under 
the date "25 of aguste 1594," we find a record of the per- 
formance of " the Venesyon comodey," which is marked ne, as 



INTRODUCTION. ig 

a new play. This entry probably refers to The Merchant of 
Ve?ike, since in that year the company of players of which 
Shakespeare was a member was performing at the theatre of 
which Henslowe was chief manager, and probably in con- 
junction with his company. 

The Merchant of Venice was played before James I. on 
Shrove Sunday, and again on Shrove Tuesday, 1605, which 
shows that it gave great satisfaction at court. The fact is 
thus recorded in the original account of expenses, made out 
by the Master of the Revels, and still preserved in the Audit 
Office :— 

" By his Ma*'' Plaiers. On Shrousunday a play of the 
Marchant of Venis." 

" By his Ma*'' Players. On Shroutusday a play cauled 
the Martchant of Venis againe, comanded by the Kings 
Ma*'^" 

The name of " Shaxberd" as " the i^oet w^hich made the 
play" is added in the margin opposite both entries. 

II. THE SOURCES OF THE PLOT. 

The plot of The Merchant of Venice is composed of two dis- 
tinct stories : that of the bond, and that of the caskets. Both 
these fables are found in the Gesta Romanorum, a Latin com- 
pilation of allegorical tales, which had been translated into 
English as early as the time of Henry VI. It is almost cer- 
tain, however, that the immediate source from which Shake- 
speare derived the incidents connected wath the bond was a 
story in II Tecorone, a collection of tales by an Italian writer, 
Giovanni Fiorentino, first published at Milan in 1558, though 
written nearly two hundred years before. In this stor}^ we 
have a rich lady at Belmont, who is to be won on certain con- 
ditions ; and she is finally the prize of a young merchant, 
whose friend, having become surety for him to a Jew under 
the same penalty as in the play, is rescued from the forfeiture 
by the adroitness of the married lady, who is disguised as a 



20 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

lawyer. The pretended judge receives, as in the comedy, 
her marriage ring as a gratuity, and afterwards banters her 
husband, in the same way, upon the loss of it. An English 
translation of // Pecorone is known to have been extant in 
Shakespeare's time. 

It is quite probable that some incidents connected with 
the bond were taken from the old ballad of Gernutus^ which 
may be found in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry. 
No dated edition of the ballad is known, but the best critics 
believe that it is older than the play, and not, as some have 
maintained, founded upon the play. 

It is possible that the legends of the bond and the caskets, 
had been blended by an English dramatic writer before Shake- 
speare began to write for the stage. Stephen Gosson, a Pu- 
ritan author, in his Schoole of Abuse, published in 1579, excepts 
a few plays from the sweeping condemnation of his "plesaunt 
inuective against Poets, Pipers, Plaiers, Jesters, and such-like 
caterpillers of a Commonwelth." Among these exceptions 
he mentions ^^The jfew, and Ptolome, showne at the Bull; the 
one representing the greedinesse of worldly chusers, and the 
bloody minds of usurers ; the other very lively describing howe 
seditious estates with their owne devises, false friends with 
their owne swoords, and rebellious commons in their owne 
snares, are overthrowne." We have no other knowledge of 
this play of The jfew ; but the nationality of its hero and the 
double moral, agreeing so exactly with that of The Merchant 
of Venice, render it probable that the plots of the two dramas 
were essentially the same ; and that Shakespeare in this in- 
stance, as in others, worked upon some rough model already 
prepared for him. The question, however, is not of great im- 
portance. As Staunton remarks, " Be the merit of the fable 
whose it may, the characters, the language, the poetry, and 
the sentiment are his, and his alone. To no other writer of 
the period could we be indebted for the charming combina- 
tion of womanly grace, and dignity, and playfulness, which is 



INTRODUCTION. 2i 

found in Portia ; for the exquisite picture of friendship be- 
tween Bassanio and Antonio ; for the profusion of poetic 
beauties scattered over the play ; and for the masterly de- 
lineation of that perfect type of Judaism in olden times, the 
character of Shylock himself" 

III. CRITICAL COMMENTS ON THE PLAY. 
\Froin SchlegeVs "Lectures on Dramatic Literature.''''*'] 
The Merchant of Venice is one of Shakespeare's most per- 
fect works : popular to an extraordinary degree, and calcu- 
lated to produce the most powerful effect on the stage, and 
at the same time a wonder of ingenuity and art for the re- 
flecting critic. Shylock the Jew is one of the inimitable mas- 
terpieces of characterization which are to be found only in 
Shakespeare. It is easy for both poet and player to exhibit 
a caricature of national sentiments, modes of speaking, and 
gestures. Shylock, however, is everything but a common 
Jew : he possesses a strongly marked and original individu- 
ality, and yet we perceive a light touch of Judaism in every- 
thing he says or does. We almost fancy we can hear a slight 
whisper of the Jewish accent even in the written words, such 
as we sometimes still find in the higher classes, notwithstand- 
ing their social refinement. In tranquil moments, all that is 
foreign to the European blood and Christian sentiments is 
less perceptible, but in passion the national stamp comes out 
more strongly marked. All these inimitable niceties the fin- 
ished art of a great actor can alone properly express. Shy- 
lock is a man of information, in his own way even a thinker, 
only he has not discovered the region where human feelings 
dwell ; his morality is founded on the disbelief in goodness 
and magnanimity. The desire to avenge the wrongs and in- 
dignities heaped upon his nation is, after avarice, his stron- 
gest spring of action. His hate is naturally directed chiefly 

* From Bohit's translation, with a few verbal changes. I have not had 
the opportunity of comparing it with the original German. 



2 2 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

against those Christians who are actuated by truly Christian 
sentiments : a disinterested love of our neighbour seems to 
him the most unrelenting persecution of the Jews. The let- 
ter of the law is his idol ; he refuses to lend an ear to the 
voice of mercy, which, from the mouth of Portia, speaks to 
him with heavenly eloquence : he insists on rigid and inflex- 
ible justice, and at last it recoils on his own head. Thus he 
becomes a symbol of the general history of his unfortunate 
nation. .The melancholy and self-sacrificing magnanimity of 
Antdtiio is affectingly sublime. Like a princely merchant, 
he. is surrounded with a whole train of noble friends. The 
contrast which this forms to the selfish cruelty of the usurer 
Shylock was necessary to redeem the honour of human na- 
ture. The danger which, almost to the close of the fourth 
act, hangs over Antonio, and which the imagination is almost 
afraid to approach, would fill the mind with too painful anxie- 
ty, if the poet did not also provide for its recreation and di- 
version. This is effected in an especial manner by the scenes 
at Portia's country-seat, which transport the spectator into 
quite another world. And yet they are closely connected 
with the main business by the chain of cause and effect. 
Bassanio's preparations for his courtship are the cause of 
Antonio's subscribing the dangerous bond ; and Portia, by 
the counsel and advice of her kinsman, a famous lawyer, ef- 
fects the safety of her lover's friend. But the relations of 
the dramatic composition are admirably observed in yet an- 
other respect, v- The trial between Shylock and Antonio is in- 
deed recorded as being a real event, but still, for all that, it 
must ever remain an unheard-of and singular case. Shake- 
speare has therefore associated it with a love intrigue not 
less extraordinary : the one consequently is rendered natural 
and probable by means of the other. A rich, beautiful, and 
intellectual heiress, who can only be won by solving the rid- 
dle ; the locked caskets ; the foreign princes, who come to 
try the venture ; — all this powerfully excites the imagination 



INTRODUCTION. 23 

with the splendour of an olden tale of marvels. The two 
scenes in which, first the Prince of Morocco, in the langua*ge 
of Eastern hyperbole, and then the self-conceited Prince of 
Arragon, make their choice among the caskets, serve merely 
to raise our curiosity, and give employment to our wits ; but 
on the third, where the two lovers stand trembling before the 
inevitable choice, which in one moment must unite or sepa- 
rate them for ever, Shakespeare has lavished all the charms 
of feeling, all the magic of poesy. We share in the rapture 
of Portia and Bassanio at the fortunate choice : we easily 
conceive why they are so fond of each other, for they are 
both most deserving of love. The trial scene, with which the 
fourth act is occupied, is in itself a perfect drama, concentrat- 
ing in itself the interest of the whole. The knot is now un- 
tied, and, according to the common ideas of theatrical satis- 
faction, the curtain ought to drop. But the poet was unwill- 
ing to dismiss his audience with the gloomy impressions which 
Antonio's acquittal, effected with so much difficulty and con- 
trary to all expectation, and the condemnation of Shylock, 
were calculated to leave behind them ; he has therefore add- 
ed the fifth act by way of a musical afterpiece in the play 
itself. The episode of Jessica, the fugitive daughter of the 
Jew, in whom Shakespeare has contrived to throw a veil of 
sweetness over the national features, and the artifice by which 
Portia and her companion are enabled to rally their newly- 
married husbands, supply him with the necessary materials. 
The scene opens with the playful prattling of two lovers in a 
summer evening ; it is followed by soft music, and a rapturous 
eulogy on this powerful disposer of the human mind and the 
world ; the principal characters then make their appearance, 
• and, after a simulated quarrel, which is gracefully maintained, 
the whole ends with the most exhilarating mirth. 

\From Mrs. Jameson's "■Characteristics of Women.''] 
Portia, Isabella, Beatrice, and Rosalind may be classed to- 



24 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



gether, as characters of intellect, because, when compared 
with others, they are at once distinguished by their mental 
superiority. In Portia, it is intellect kindled into romance 
by a poetical imagination ; in Isabel, it is intellect elevated 
by religious principle ; in Beatrice, intellect animated by spir- 
it j in Rosalind, intellect softened by sensibility. The wit 
which is lavished on each is profound, or pointed, or spark- 
ling, or playful — but always feminine ; like spirits distilled 
from flowers, it always reminds us of its origin ; it is a vola- 
tile essence, sweet as powerful ; and to pursue the compari- 
son a step further, the wit of Portia is like ottar of roses, rich 
and concentrated ; that of Rosalind, like cotton dipped in 
aromatic vinegar ; the wit of Beatrice is like sal volatile ; and 
that of Isabel, like the incense wafted to heaven. Of these 
four exquisite -characters, considered as dramatic and poetic- 
al conceptions, it is difficult to pronounce which is. most per- 
fect in its way, most admirably drawn, most highly finished. 
But if considered in another point of view, as women and 
individuals,, as breathing realities, clothed in flesh and blood, 
I believe we must assign the first rank to Portia, as uniting 
in herself, in a more eminent degree than the others, all the 
noblest and most lovable qualities that ever met together 
in woman, and presenting a complete personification of Pe- 
trarch's exquisite epitome of female perfection — 
II vago spirito ardento, 
E'n alto intelletto, un puro core. 

Shylock is not a finer or more finished character in his 
way, than Portia is in hers. These two splendid figures are 
worthy of each other ; worthy of being placed together with- 
in the same rich framework of enchanting poetry, and glori- 
ous and graceful forms. She hangs beside the terrible inex- 
orable Jew, the brilliant lights of her character set off by the 
shadowy power of his, like a magnificent beauty-breathing 
Titian by the side of a gorgeous Rembrandt. 

Portia is endued with her own share of those delightful 



INTRODUCTION. 



25 



qualities which Shakespeare has lavished on many of his fe- 
male characters ; but, besides the dignity, the sweetness, and 
tenderness which should distinguish her sex generally, she is 
individualized by qualities peculiar to herself; by her high 
mental powers, her enthusiasm of temperament, her decision 
of purpose, and her buoyancy of spirit. These are innate ; 
she has other distinguishing qualities more external, and 
which are the result of the circumstances in which she is 
placed. Thus she is the heiress of a princely name and 
countless wealth j a train of obedient pleasures have ever 
waited round her ; and from infancy she has breathed an at- 
mosphere redolent of perfume and blandishment. Accord- 
ingly there is a commanding grace, a high-bred, airy elegance, 
a spirit of magnificence in all that she does and says, as one 
to whom splendour had been familiar from her very birth. 
She treads as though her footsteps had been among marble 
palaces, beneath roofs of fretted gold, o'er cedar floors and 
pavements of jasper and porphyry — amid gardens full of stat- 
ues, and flowers, and fountains, and haunting music. She is 
full of penetrative wisdom, and genuine tenderness, and live- 
ly wit ; but as she has never known want, or grief, or fear, or 
disappointment, her wisdom is without a touch of the sombre 
or the sad ; her aflections are all mixed up with faith, hope, 
and joy ; and her wit has not a particle of malevolence or 

causticity 

-L-The sudden plan which she forms for the release of her 
husband's friend, her disguise, and her deportment as the 
young and learned doctor, would appear forced and improb- 
able in any other woman, but in Portia are the simple and 
natural result of her character."* The quickness with which 
she perceives the legal advantage which may be taken of the 
circumstances, the spirit of adventure with which she engages 

* In that age, delicate points of law were not determined by the ordi- 
nary judges of the provinces, but by doctors of law, who were called from 
Bologna, Padua, and other .places celebrated for their legal colleges. 



26 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

in the masquerading, and the decision, firmness, and intelh- 
gence with which she executes her generous purpose, are all 
in perfect keeping, and nothing appears forced — nothing as 
introduced merely for theatrical effect. 

But all the finest parts of Portia's character are brought to 
bear in the trial scene. There she shines forth, all her di- 
vine self. Her intellectual powers, her elevated sense of re- 
ligion, her high honourable principles, her best feelings as a 
woman, are all displayed. She maintains at first a calm self- 
command, as one sure of carrying her point in the end ; yet 
the painful heart-thrilling uncertainty in which she keeps the 
whole court, until suspense verges upon agony, is not con- 
trived for effect merely ; it is necessary and inevitable. She 
has two objects in view : to deliver her husband's friend, and 
to maintain her husband's honour by the discharge of his just 
debt, though paid out of her own vv^ealth ten times over. It 
is evident that she would rather owe the safety of Antonio to 
anything rather than the legal quibble with which her cousin 
Bellario has armed her, and which she reserves as a last re- 
source. Thus all the speeches addressed to Shylock in the 
first instance are either direct or indirect experiments on his 
temper and feelings. She must be understood from the be- 
ginning to the end as examining, with intense anxiety, the 
effect of her own words on his mind and countenance : as 
watching for that relenting spirit, which she hopes to awaken 
either by reason or persuasion. She begins by an appeal to 
his mercy, in that matchless piece of eloquence, which, with 
an irresistible and solemn pathos, falls upon the heart like 
"gentle dew from heaven:" — but in vain; for that blessed 
dew drops not more fruitless and unfelt on the parched sand 
of the desert, than do these heavenly words upon the ear of 
Shylock. She next attacks his avarice : 

Shylock, there's thrice thy money offered thee J 

Then she appeals, in the same breath, both to his avarice and 
his pity : 



INTRODUCTION. 27 

Be merciful ! 
Take thrice thy money. Bid me tear the bond. 

All that she says afterwards — her strong expressions, which 
are calculated to strike a shuddering horror through the 
nerves, the reflections she interposes, her delays and circum- 
locution to give time for any latent feeling of commiseration 
to display itself, — all, all are premeditated, and tend in the 
same manner to the object she has in view. 

So unwilling is her sanguine and generous spirit to resign 
all hope, or to believe that humanity is absolutely extinct in 
the bosom of the Jew, that she calls on Antonio, as a last re- 
source, to speak for himself. His gentle, yet manly resigna- 
tion, the deep pathos of his farewell, and the affectionate al- 
lusion to herself in his last address to Bassanio — 

Commend me to your honourable wife ; 

Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death, etc. — 

are well calculated to swell that emotion, which through the 
whole scene must have been labouring suppressed within her 
heart. 

At length the crisis arrives, for patience and womanhood 
can endure no longer ; and when Shylock, carrying his sav- 
age bent " to the last hour of act," springs on his victim — "A 
sentence ! come, prepare !" — then the smothered scorn, indig- 
nation, and disgust burst forth with an impetuosity which in- 
terferes with the judicial solemnity she had at first affected, 
particularly in the speech — 

Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the flesh, etc. 

But she afterwards recovers her propriety, and triumphs with 
a cooler scorn and a more self-possessed exultation. 

It is clear that, to feel the full force and dramatic beauty 
of this marvellous scene, we must go along with Portia as 
well as with Shylock ; we must understand her concealed 
purpose, keep in mind her noble motives, and pursue in our 
fancy the under current of feeling, working in her mind; 



28 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

throughout. The terror and the power of Shylock's charac- 
ter, his deadly and inexorable malice, would be too oppress- 
ive, the pain and pity too intolerable, and the horror of the 
possible issue too overwhelming, but for the intellectual re- 
lief afforded by this double source of interest and contempla- 
tion 

A prominent feature in Portia's character is that confiding, 
buoyant spirit, which mingles with all her thoughts and affec- 
tions. And here let me observe, that I never yet met in real 
life, nor ever read in tale or history, of any woman, distin- 
guished for intellect of the highest order, who was not also 
remarkable for this trusting spirit, this hopefulness and cheer- 
fulness of temper, which is compatible with the most serious 
habits of thouglit, and the most profound sensibility. Lady 
Wortley Montagu was one instance; and Madame de Stael 
furnishes another much more memorable. In her Corinne, 
whom she drew from herself, this natural brightness of temper 
is a prominent part of the character. A disposition to doubt, 
to suspect, and to despond, in the young, argues, in general, 
some inherent weakness, moral or physical, or some miser- 
able and radical error of education : in the old, it is one of 
the first symptoms of age ; it speaks of the influence of sor- 
row and experience, and foreshows the decay of the stronger 
and more generous powers of the soul. Portia's strength of 
intellect takes a natural tinge from the flush and bloom of 
her young and prosperous existence, and from her fervent 
imagination. In the casket-scene, she fears indeed the issue 
of the trial, on which more than her life is hazarded ; but 
while she trembles, her hope is stronger than her fear 

Her subsequent surrender of herself in heart and soul, of 
her maiden freedom, and her vast possessions, can never be 
read without deep emotions ; for not only all the tenderness 
and delicacy of a devoted woman are here blended with all 
the dignity which becomes the princely heiress of Belmont, 
but the serious, measured self-possession of her address to 



INTRODUCTION. 29 

her lover, when all suspense is over, and all concealment su- 
perfluous, is most beautifully consistent with the character. 
It is, in truth, an awful moment, that in which a gifted woman 
first discovers that, besides talents and powers, she has also 
passions and affections ; when she first begins to suspect their 
vast importance in the sum of her existence ; when she first 
confesses that her happiness is no longer in her own keeping, 
but is surrendered forever and forever into the dominion of 
another ! The possession of uncommon powers of mind is 
so far from affording relief or resource in the first intoxica- 
ting surprise — I had almost said terror — of such a revolution, 
that they render it more inte'nse. The sources of thought 
multiply beyond calculation the sources of feeling ; and min- 
gled, they rush together, a torrent deep as strong. Because 
Portia is, endued with that enlarged comprehension which 
looks before and after, she does not feel the less, but the 
more ; because from the height of her commanding intellect 
she can contemplate the force, the tendency, the consequences 
of her own sentiments — because she is fully sensible of her 
own situation, and the value of all she concedes- -the conces- 
sion is not made with less entireness and devotion of heart, 
less confidence in the truth and worth of her lover, than when 
Juliet, in a similar moment, but without any such intrusive re- 
flections — any check but the instinctive delicacy of her seXj 
flings herself and her fortunes at the feet of her lover : 
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay, 
And follow thee, my lord, through all the world.* 

In Portia's confession — "You see me. Lord Bassanio, where 
I stand," etc. — which is not breathed from a moonlit balcony, 
but spoken openly in the presence of her attendants and vas- 
sals, there is nothing of the passionate self-abandonment of 
Juliet, nor of the artless simplicity of Miranda, but a con- 
sciousness and a tender seriousness, approaching to solemni- 
ty, which are not less touching. 

* Romeo and Jitliet, ii. 2. 



-30 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

We must also remark that the sweetness, the solicitude, 
the subdued fondness which she afterwards displays, relative 
to the letter, are as true to the softness of her sex, as the gen- 
erous self-denial with which she urges the departure of Bas- 
Sanio (having first given him a husband's right over herself 
and all her countless wealth) is consistent vv'ith a reflecting 
mind, and a spirit at once tender, reasonable, and magnani- 
mous 

In the last act, Shylock and his machinations being dis- 
missed from our thoughts^ and the rest of the dra7natis per- 
sonce assembled together at Belmont, all our interest and all 
our attention are riveted on Portia, and the conclusion leaves 
the most delightful impression on the fancy. The playful 
equivoque of the rings, the sportive trick she puts on her 
husband, and her thorough enjoyment of the jest, which she 
checks just as it is proceeding beyond the bounds of proprie- 
ty, show how little she was displeased by the sacrifice of her 
gift, and are all consistent with her bright and buoyant spirit. 
In conclusion, when Portia invites her company to enter her 
palace to refresh themselves after their travels, and talk over 
"these events at full," the imagination, unwilling to lose sight 
of the brilliant group, follows them in gay procession from the 
lovely moonlight garden to m.arble halls and princely revels, 
to splendor and festive mirth, to love and happiness 

It is observable that something of the intellectual brilliance 
of Portia is reflected on the other female characters of The 
Merchant of Venice so as to preserve in the midst of contrast 
a certain harmony and keeping. Thus Jessica, though prop- 
erly kept subordinate, is certainly 

A most beautiful pagan — a most sweet Jew. 

She cannot be called a sketch — or if a sketch, she is like one 
of those dashed off in glowing colours from the rainbow pal- 
ette of a Rubens; she has a rich tinge of Orientalism shed 
over her, worthy of her Eastern origin. In another play, and 



INTRODUCTION. ^i 

in any other companionship than that of the matchless Por- 
tia, Jessica would make a very beautiful heroine of herself 
Nothing can be more poetically, more classically fanciful and 
elegant than the scenes between her and Lorenzo — the cel- 
ebrated moonlight dialogue, for instance, which we all have 
by heart. Every sentiment she utters interests us for her — 
more particularly her bashful self-reproach, when flying in the 
disguise of a page : — 

I am glad 'tis night, you do not look upon me, 
For I am much asham'd oj^y exchange ; 
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 

And the enthusiastic and generous testimony to the superior 
graces and accomplishments of Portia comes with a peculiar 
grace from her lips : — 

Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match, 
And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
And Portia one, there must be something else 
Pawned with the other ; for the poor rude world 
Hath not her fellow. 

We should not, however, easily pardon her for cheating her 
father with so much indifference but for the perception that 
Shylock values his daughter far beneath his wealth : — 

I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her ear ! 
— would she were hearsed at my foot, and the ducats in her coffin ! 

Nerissa is a good specimen of a common genus of charac- 
ters ; she is a clever confidential waiting-woman, who has 
caught a little of her lady's elegance and romance ; she af- 
fects to be lively and sententious, falls in love, and makes 
her favour conditional on the fortune of the caskets, and, in 
short, mimics her mistress with good emphasis and discretion. 
Nerissa and the gay, talkative Gratiano are as well matched 
as the incomparable Portia and* her magnificent and capti- 
v-ating lover. 



32 ■ THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



\From Htcdso7i^ s Introduction to the Play!^\ 

The praise of The Merchant of Venice is in the mouth of 
nearly all the critics. That this praise is well deserved ap- 
pears in that, from the opening of the theatres at the E.esto- 
ration until the present day, the play has kept possession of 
the stage, while at the same time it is among the first of the 
Poet's works to be read, and the last .to be forgotten, its in- 
terest being as inexhaustible in the closet as upon the stage. 
Well do we remember it as the very beginning of our acquaint- 
ance with Shakespeare ; one of the dearest acquaintances 
that we have ever made, and which has been to us a source 
of more pleasure and profit than we should dare undertake 
to tell. Whatsoever local or temporary question may have 
suggested the theme, the work strikes at once upon" chords 
of universal and perpetual interest : if it fell in with any prej- 
udices or purposes of the time, this was to draw men's thoughts 
the more surely, because secretly, into the course and service 
of truth ; to open and hold their minds, without letting them 
know it, to grave, solemn lessons of wisdom and humanity ; 
thus, like a wise master-builder, using the transient and pop- 
ular for the building up of the permanent and beautiful. . , . 

In point of characterization The Merchant of Venice is ex- 
ceedingly rich, whether we consider the quantity or the qual- 
ity ; and the more we study the work, the more we cannot 
but wonder that so much of human nature, in so great a 
variety of development, should be crowded into so small a 
space. The persons naturally fall into three several groups, 
with each its several plot and action ; yet the three are most 
skilfully complotted, each standing out clear and distinct in 
its place, yet concurring with the others in dramatic unity, so 
that everything helps on every other thing, without either the 
slightest confusion or the slightest appearance of care to 
avoid it. Of these three groups it is hardly needful to add 
* Hudson's Shakespeare^ vol. iii. p. 12 foil. 



INTRODUCTION. 33 

that Antonio, Shylock, and Portia are respectively the centres j 
while the part of Lorenzo and Jessica, thougii strictly an epi- 
sode, seems, nevertheless, to grow forth as an element of the 
original germ, a sort of inherent superfluity, and, as such, es- 
sential, not indeed to the being, but to the well-being of the 
work ; in short, a fine, romantic undertone accompaniment to 
the other parts, yet contemplated and provided for in the 
whole plan and structure of the piece j itself in harmony with 
all the rest, and therefore perfecting their harmony with one 
another. . . . 

Shylock is a standing marvel of power and scope in the 
dramatic art, at the same time appearing so much a man of 
Nature's making that we scarce know how to look upon him 
as the Poet's workmanship. In the delineation Shakespeare 
had no less a task than to inform with individual life and pe- 
culiarity the broad, strong outlines of national character in 
its most fallen and revolting state. Accordingly, Shylock is 
a true representative of his nation, wherein we have a pride 
which for ages never ceased to provoke hostility, but which 
no hostility could ever subdue ; a thrift which still invited 
rapacity, but which no rapacity could ever exhaust ; and a 
weakness which, while it exposed the subjects to wrong, only 
deepened their hate, because it left them without the means 
or the hope of redress. Thus Shylock is a type of national 
suflerings, sympathies, arid antipadiies. Himself an object 
of bitter insult and scorn to those about him — surrounded by- 
enemies whom he is at once too proud to conciliate and too 
weak to oppose — he can have no life among them but misery, 
no hold on them but interest, no feeling towards them but 
hate, no indemnity out of them but revenge. Such being the 
case, what wonder that the elements of national greatness 
became congealed or petrified into malignity 1 As avarice 
was the passion in which he mainly lived, of course the Chris- 
tian virtues that thwarted this were the greatest wrong that 
could be done him. 

C 



24 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

With these strong national traits are interwoven personal 
traits equally stft)ng. Thoroughly and intensely Jewish, he is 
not more a Jew than he is Shylock. In his hard, icy intel- 
lectuality, and his " dry, mummy-like tenacity" of purpose, 
with a dash now and then of biting, sarcastic humour, we see 
the remains of a great and noble nature, out of which the ge- 
nial sap of humanity has been pressed by accumulated inju- 
ries. With as much elasticity of mind as stiffness of neck, 
every step he takes but the last is as firm as the earth he 
treads upon. Nothing can daunt, nothing disconcert him ; 
remonstrance cannot move, ridicule cannot touch, obloquy 
cannot exasperate him ; when he has not provoked them, he 
has been forced to bear them ; and now that he does provoke 
them, he is proof against them. In a word, he may be bro- 
ken, he cannot be bent. 

These several elements of character are so complicated in 
Shylock that we cannot distinguish their respective influ- 
ence. Even his avarice has a smack of patriotism. Money 
is the only defence of his brethren as well as himself, and he 
craves it for their sake as much as his own ; feels indeed that 
wrongs are offered to them in him, and to him in them. An- 
tonio has scorned his religion, thwarted him of usurious gains, 
insulted his person ; therefore he hates him as a Christian, 
himself a Jew ; as a lender of money gratis, himself a griping 
usurer ; as Antonio, himself Shylock In his cool, res- 
olute, unrelenting, imperturbable hardness at the trial, there 
is something that makes our blood to tingle. It is the sub- 
limity of malice ! We feel, and tremble as we feel, that the 
yearnings of revenge have silenced all other cares and all 
other thoughts. Fearful, however, as is his malignity, he 
comes not off without moving our pity. In the very act 
whereby he thinks to avenge his own and his brethren's 
wrongs, the national curse overtakes him : in standing up for 
the law, he has but strengthened his enemies' hands, and 
sharpened their weapons against himself; and the terrible 



INTRODUCTION. ^c 

Jew sinks at last into the poor, pitiable, heart-broken Shy- 
lock. 

[Mr. Hudson gives the following concise summary of Ulri- 
ci's views concerning the fundamental idea of the play.] 

He regards the whole play as a manifold working out of 
the principle, that all forms of right and justice, if pushed 
beyond a certain point, pass over into their opposites, so 
that extreme right becomes extreme wrong, thus verifying the 
old rn2od\-n,stim7numJus sunima injuria. This is best exem- 
plified in Shylock, who has formal right on his side, in that 
he claims no more than Antonio has freely bound himself 
to pay ; but in the strict, rigid exacting of this claim he runs 
into the foulest wrong, because in his case justice is not jus- 
tice unless it be tempered with mercy ; that is, to keep its 
own nature, it must be an offshoot from the higher principle 
of cliarity. So also the tying-up of Portia's hand to the dis- 
posal of chance, and robbing her of all share in the choice 
of a husband, rests ultimately on paternal right; yet this ex- 
treme right is an extreme wrong, because it might involve 
her in misery for life, but that chance, a lucky thought of the 
moment, leads to a happy result. Likewise in case of Jessi- 
ca ; her conduct were extremely wrong, but that she has good 
cause for it in the approved malignity of her father's temper; 
for justice cannot blame her for forsaking both the person 
and the religion of one, even though her father, whose char- 
acter is so steeped in cruelty. Again, in the matter of the 
rings, the same principle is reflected, right and vv^rong being 
here driven to that extreme point where they pass over into 
each other : only Portia understands or feels this truth, be- 
cause her mind lives in the harmonies of things, and is not 
poisoned with any self-willed abstraction. This yields a jus- 
tification of the fifth act : " it effaces the tragic impression 
which still lingers in the mind from the fourth act ; the last \ 
vibrations of the harsh tones which were there struck here 
die away ; in the gay and amusing trifling of love the sharp 



36 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



contrarieties of right and wrong are playfully reconciled." 
Thus, while the several parts are disposed with clearness and 
precision, each proceeding so naturally of itself, and along- 
side the others, that we never lose the thread, at the same 
time a free living principle pervades them all, rounding them 
off into a perfect organic whole. 

\Froni White's Introductio7i to the Play.^l 

We find, then, that the story of this comedy, even to its epi- 
sodic part and its minutest incidents, had been told again and 
again long before Shakespeare was born — that even certain 
expressions in it occur in the works of the preceding authors 
— in Giovanni Florentine's version of the story of the Bond, 
in the story of the Caskets, as told in the Gesta Romafiorum^ 
in the ballad of Gernutus, and in Massuccio di Salerno's 
novel about the girl who eloped from and robbed her miserly 
father — and it is more than probable that even the combina- 
tion of the first two of these had been made before Th^ Mer- 
chant of Venice was written. What then remains to Shake- 
speare ? and what is there to show that he is not a plagiar- 
ist ? Everything that makes The Merchant of Venice what it 
is. The people are puppets, and the incidents are all in 
these old stories. They are mere bundles of barren sticks 
that the poet's touch causes to bloom like Aaron's rod : they 
are heaps of dry bones till he clothes them with human flesh 
and breathes into them the breath of life. Antonio^ grave, 
pensive, prudent save in his devotion to his young kinsman, 
as a Christian hating the Jew, as a royal merchant despising 
the usurer ; BassaJtio, lavish yet provident, a generous gentle- 
man although a fortune-seeker, wise although a gay gallant, 
and manly though dependent ; Gratiafto, who unites the not 
too common virtues of thorough good nature and unselfish- 
ness with the sometimes not unserviceable fault of talking for 
talk's sake ; Shylock, crafty and cruel, whose revenge is as 
* White's Shakespeare, vol. iv. p. 139, 



INTRO D UCTION. 



37 



mean as it is fierce and fiirious, whose abuse never rises to 
invective, and who has yet some dignity of port as the aven- 
ger of a nation's wrongs, some claim upon our sympathy as 
a father outraged by his only child ; and Portia, matchless 
impersonation of that rare woman who is gifted even more in 
intellect than loveliness, and who yet stops gracefully short 
of the offence of intellectuality — these, not to notice minor 
characters no less perfectly organized or completely devel- 
oped after their kind — these, and the poetry which is their 
atmosphere, and through which they beam upon us, all radi- 
ant in its golden light, are Shakespeare's only ; and these it 
is, and not the incidents of old and, but for these, forgotten 
tales, that make The Merchaiit of Venice a priceless and im- 
perishable dower to the queenly city that sits enthroned upon 
the sea — a dower of romance more bewitching than that of 
her moonlit waters and beauty-laden balconies, of adornment 
more splendid than that of her pictured palaces, of human 
interest more enduring than that of her blood-stained annals, 
more touching even than the sight of her faded grandeur. 




ANCIENT FONT, FORMERLY IN STRATFORD CHURCH. 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



The Duke of Venice. 
The Prince of Morocco, l suitors to 
The Prince of Arragon, ] Portia. 
Antonio, the Merchant of Venice. 
Bassanio, his friend. 
Salanio, 
SaESIsino, 
Gratiano, 

Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
^HYLOCK, a Jew. 
Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
Launcelot Gobbo, a clown. 
Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 



friends to Antonio %nd 
Bassanio. 



S.A.LERIO, a messenger. 
Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 



Balthasar, \ 
Stephano, j 



servants to Portia. 



Portia, a rich heiress. 
Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the 
Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants, 
and other Attendants. 

Scene : Partly at Venice, and partly at 
Belmont. 




ARGOSIES. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. Venice. A street. 
Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. 

Antonio. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it. 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
That I have much ado to know myself 

Salarino. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
There, where your argosies with portly sail, 



42 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 
Do overpeer the petty traffickers. 
That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

Salanio. BeUeve me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
The better part of my affections would 
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind, 
Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads j 
And every object that might make me fear 
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
Would make me sad. 

Salarino. My wind, cooling my broth, 

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run, 
But I should think of shallows and of flats. 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand, 
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs, 
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church. 
And see the holy edifice of stone. 
And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
Which, touching but my gentle vessel's side. 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks. 
And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
And now worth nothing ? Shall I have the thought 
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought 
That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad ? 
But tell not me : I know, Antonio 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 

Antonio. Believe me, no. I thank my fortune for it, 
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 



ACT L SCENE L 



43 



Upon the fortune of this present year : 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 

Salarino. Why, then you are in love. 

Antonio.- Fie, fie ! 

Salar. Not in love neither 1 Then let us say you are sad, 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you to laugh and leap, and say you are merry, 
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, 
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper ; 
And other of such vinegar aspect 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 

Salanio. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
Gratiano, and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
We leave you now with better company. 

Salarino. I would have stay'd till I had made you merry, 
If w^orthier friends had not prevented me. 

Antonio. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on you, 
And you embrace th' occasion to depart. 

Salarino. Good morrow, my good lords. 

Bassanio. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? Say, 
when ? 
You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 

Salarino. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 

• \_Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 

Lorenzo. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, 
We two will leave you ; but at dinner-time, 
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 

Bassanio. I will not fail you. 

Gratiano. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 



44 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

You have too much respect upon the world : 
They lose it that do buy it with much care. 
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 

Antonio. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage where every man must play a part, 
And mine a sad one. 

Gratiano. Let me play the fool : 

With mirth and laughter let t)ld wrinkles coihe, 
And let my liver rather heat with wine 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man whose blood is warm within 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
Sleep when he wakes, and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks — 
There are a sort of men whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond, 
And do a wilful stillness entertain, 
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit ; 
As who should say, ' I am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark !' 

my Antonio, I do know of these 
That therefore only are reputed wise, 

For saying nothing ; when, I am veiy sure. 

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears 

Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 

I'll tell thee more of this another time : 

But fish not, with this melancholy bait. 

For this fool-gudgeon, this opinion. — • 

Come, good Lorenzo. — Fare ye well a while : 

I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 

Lorenzo. Well, we will leave you, then, till dinner-time. 

1 must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. 



ACT I. SCENE I. 



45 



Gratiano. Well, keep me company but two years more, 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 

Antonio. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. 

Gratiano. Thanks, i' faith \ for silence is only commendable 
In a neat's tongue dried. \_Exeimt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 

A7ito7iio. Is that any thing now ? 

Bassanio. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, 
more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two 
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek 
all day ere you find them ; and when you have them, they 
are not worth the search. 

Antonio. Well, tell me now, what lady is the same 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage. 
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of .-^ 

Bassanio. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much I have disabled mine estate. 
By something showing a more swelling port 
Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is to come fairly off from the great debts 
Wherein my time, something too prodigal, 
Hath left me gaged. To you, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money, and in love j 
And from your love I have a warranty 
To unburthen all my plots and purposes, 
How to get clear of all the debts I ow^e. 

Antonio. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me knqw it ; 
And if it stand, as you youlrself still do. 
Within the eye of honour, be assur'd. 
My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
Lie all unlock'd to your pccasions. 

Bassanio. In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, 
I shot his fellow of the self-same flig^ht 
The self-same way, with more advised watch, 



^6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

To find the other forth ; and by adventuring both, 

I oft found both. I urge this childhood proof, 

Because what follows is pure innocence. 

I owe you much, and, like a wilful youth, 

That which I owe is lost ; but if you please 

To shoot another arrow that self way 

Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 

As I will watch the aim, or to find both. 

Or bring your latter hazard back again. 

And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 

Ajttonio. You know me well, and herein spend but time 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
And, out of doubt, you do me now more wrong, 
In making question of my uttermost. 
Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do. 
That in your knowledge may by me be done. 
And I am prest unto it : therefore speak. 

Bassanio. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
And she is fair and, fairer than that word. 
Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
I did receive fair speechless messages. 
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia : 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors ; and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' strand. 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

my Antonio, had I but the means 
To hold a rival place with one of them, 

1 have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate. 

Antonio. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ; 



ACT I. SCENE 11. 47 

Neither have I money nor commodity 

To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ; 

Try what my credit can in Venice do : 

That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 

To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 

Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 

Where money is, and I no question make 

To have it of my trust, or for my sake. \Exeunt. 

Scene IL JBelmojif. A room in Po7'tia^s house. 
Enter Portia and Nerissa. ^ 

Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of 
this great world. 

JVerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries 
were in the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and 
yet, for aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too 
much, as they that starve with nothing. It is no small hap- 
piness, therefore, to be seated in the mean : superfluity comes 
sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. 

Portia. Good sentences, and well pronounced. 

JVerissa. They would be better, if well followed. 

Portia. /If to do were as easy as to know what w^ere good 
to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages 
princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own 
instructions : I can easier teach twenty what were good to be 
done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. ^ 
The brain may devise laws for the blood ; but a hot tempef 
leaps o'er a cold decree : such a hare is madness, the youth, 
to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel, the cripple. But 
this reasoning is not in the fashion to choose me a husband. 
— O me, the word choose! I may neither choose whom I 
would, nor refuse whom I dislike : so is the will of a living 
daughter curbed by the will of a dead father. Is it not hard, 
Nerissa, that I cannot choose one, nor refuse none .-' 



48 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Nerissa. Your father was ever virtuous, and holy men at 
then* death have good inspirations.; therefore the lottery that 
he hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and 
lead (whereof who chooses his meaning chooses you) will, no 
doubt, never be chosen by any rightly but one who you shall 
rightly love. But what warmth is there in your affection to- 
wards any of these princely suitors that are already come ? 

Portia. I pray thee, over-name them, and as thou namest 
them, I will describe them ; and, according to my description, 
level at my affection. 

Nerissa. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Portia, ^y, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but 
talk of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to 
his own good parts, that he can shoe him himself 

Nerissa. Then is there the County Palatine. 

Portia. He doth nothing but frown, as who should say, 
*An you will not have me, choose.' He hears merry tales, 
and smiles not : I fear he will prove the weeping philoso- 
pher when he grows old, being so full of unmannerly sadness 
in his youth. I had rather to be married to a death's head 
with a bone in his mouth than to either of these. God de- 
fend me from these two ! 

Nerissa. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur Le 
Bon? 

Portia. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a 
man. In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker : but, he ! 
why, he hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better 
bad habit of frowning than the Count Palatine : he is every 
man in no man ; if a throstle sing, he falls straight a caper- 
ing : he will fence with his own shadow. If I should marry 
him, I should marry twenty husbands. If he would despise 
me, I would forgive him ; for if he love me to madness, I shall 
never requite him. 

Nerissa. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young 
baron of England ? 



ACT L SCENE II. 49 

Po7'tia. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands 
not me, nor I him : he hath neither Latin, French, nor Ital- 
ian, and you will come into the court and swear that I have 
a poor pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's 
picture ; but, alas ! who can converse with a dumb show ? 
How oddly he is suited ! I think he bought his doublet in 
Italy, his round hose in France, his bonnet in Germany, and 
his behaviour every where. 

Ner. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbour ? 

Portia. That he hath a neighbourly charity in him ; for he 
borrowed a box of the ear of the Englishman, and swore he 
would pay him again when he was able : I think the French- 
man became his surety and sealed under for another. 

Nerissa. How like you the young German, the Duke of 
Saxony's nephew ? 

Portia. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and' 
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk : when he is 
best, he is a little worse than a man ; and when he is worst, 
he is little better than a beast. An the worst fall that ever 
fell, I hope I shall make shift to go without him. 

Nerissa. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right 
casket, you should refuse to perform your father's will, if you 
should refuse to accept him. 

Portia. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a 
deep glass of Rhenish wine on the contrary casket; for if 
the devil be within, and that temptation without, I know he 
will choose it. I will do any thing, Nerissa, ere I will be mar- 
ried to a sponge. -^.^ 

Nerissa. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these 
lords : they have acquainted me with their determinations ; 
which is, indeed, to return to their home, and to trouble you 
with no more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort 
than your father's imposition depending on the caskets. 

Portia. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will die as chaste 
as Diana, unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's 

D 



^o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

will. I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for 
there is not one among them but I dote on his very absence ; 
and I wish them a fair departure. 

Nerissa. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, 
a Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in com- 
pany of the Marquis of Montferrat t 

Portia. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio j as I think, so was he 
called. 

Nerissa. True, madam: he, of all the men that ever my 
foolish eyes looked upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 

Portia. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy 
of thy praise. 

Enter a Serving-man. 

Serv. The four strangers seek you, madam, to take their 
leave ; and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the Prince 
of Morocco, who brings word the prince his master will be 
here to-night. 

Portia. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good heart 
as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his 
approach : if he have the condition of a saint, and the com- 
plexion of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than 
wive me. 

Come, Nerissa. — Sirrah, go before. 

Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks at 
\the door. [Exeunt. 

,y^ Scene III. Venice. A public place. 

Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 

Shylock. Three thousand ducats, — well. 

Bassanio. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shylock. For three months, — well. 

Bass. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be bound. 

Shylock. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 



ACT I. SCENE III. 51 

Bassa7iio. May you stead me ? Will you pleasure me ? 
Shall I know your answer ? 

Shylock. Three thousand ducats, for three months, and An- 
tonio bound. 

Bassanio. Your answer to that. 

Shylock. Antonio is a good man. 

Bassanio. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary? 

Shylock. Oh, no, no, no, no : my meaning, in saying he is 
a good man, is to have you understand me that he is suffi- 
cient. Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an argosy 
bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies ; I understand, more- 
over, upon the Rialto, he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for 
England, and other ventures he hath, squandered abroad. 
But ships are but boards, sailors but men : there be land- 
rats and water-rats, land-thieves and water-thieves, — I mean 
pirates ; and then there is the peril of waters, winds, and 
rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, sufficient. Three thou- 
sand ducats, — I think I may take his bond. 

Bassanio. Be assured you may. 

Shylock. I will be assured I may ; and that I may be as- 
sured, I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio ? 

Bassanio. If it please you to dine with us. 

Shylock. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which 
your prophet, the Nazarite, conjured the devil into. I will 
buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and 
so following ; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor 
pray with you. — What news on the Rialto ^ — Who is he comes 
here ? 

Ente7' Antonio. 

Bassaitio. This is Signior Antonio. 

Shylock [Aside]. How like a fawning publican he looks ! 
I hate him for he is a Christian, 
But more for that, in low simplicity, 
He lends out money gratis, and brings down 



52 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 

If I can catch him once upon the hip, 

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 

He hates our sacred nation \ and he rails, • 

Even' there where merchants most do congregate, 

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 

Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 

If I forgive him ! 

Bassa7tio, Shylock, do you hear ? 

Shylock. I am debating of my present store ; 
And, by the near guess of my memory, 
I cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand ducats. What of that t 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe. 
Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months ' 
Do you desire ? — \To Anf.] Rest you fair, good signior ; 
Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Antonio. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor borrow 
By taking nor by giving of excess. 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd 
How much you would ? 

Shylock. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Antonio. And for three months. 

Shylock. I had forgot : — three months ; you told me so. 
Well then^ your bond ; and let me see — but hear you : 
Methought-you said you neither lend nor borrow 
Upon advantage. 

Antonio. I do never use it. 

Shylock. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep — 
This Jacob from our holy Abram was 
(As his wise mother wrought in his behalf) 
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third — 

Antonio.; And what of him ? did he take interest ? 

Shylock": No, not take interest, not, as you would say, 



ACT I. SCENE III. q^ 

Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 

When Laban and himself were compromis'd 

That all the eanlings which were streak'd and pied 

Should fall as Jacob's hire, 

The skilful shepherd pill'd me certain wands, 

And stuck them up before the fulsome ewes. 

Who, then conceiving, did in eaning time 

Fall parti-colour'd lambs ; and those were Jacob's. 

This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 

And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Antonio. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for ; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Or is youjT gold and silver ewes and rams .<* 

Shylock. I cannot tell j I make it breed as fast. — 
But note me, signior. 

Antonio. Mark you this, Bassanio, 

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness. 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, ' 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart. 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 

Shylock. Three thousand ducats ; — 'tis a good pound sum. 
Three months from twelve ; — then, let me see the rate. 

Antonio. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding to you ? 

Shylock. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft. 
In the Rialto, you have rated me 
About my moneys and my usances : 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug j 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. 
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog. 
And spet upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well then, it now appears you need my help : 



^4 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Go to, then ; you come to me, and you say, 

' Shylock, we would have moneys :' you say so ; 

You, that did void your rheum upon my beard. 

And foot me, as you spurn a stranger cur 

Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 

What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 

' Hath a dog money ? Is it possible 

A cur should lend three thousand ducats ?' Or 

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 

With bated breath and whisp'ring humbleness, 

Say this ; 

^ Fair sir, you spet on me on Wednesday last ; 

You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 

You call'd me dog ; and for these courtesies 

I'll lend you thus much moneys ?' % 

Antonio. I am as like to call thee so again. 
To spet on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
A breed of barren metal of his friend ? 
But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
Who if he break, thou may'st with better face 
Exact the penalties. 

Shylock. » Why, look you, how you storm ! 

I would be friends with you, and have your love. 
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with. 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me. 
This is kind I offer. 

Bassanio. This were kindness. 

Shylock. This kindness will I show. 

Go with me to a notary ; seal me there 
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport. 
If you repay me not on such a day. 
In such a place, such sum or sums as are 



ACT I. SCENE III. ^2 

Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated for an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 
In what part of your body it pleaseth me. 

Antonio. Content, i' faith j I'll seal to such a bondy 
And say there is much kindness in the Jew, 

Bassanio. You shall not seal to such a bond for meii(S 
I'll rather dwell in my necessity. -* 

Antonio. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit, it : 
Within these two months — that's a month before 
This bond expires — I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shylock. O father Abram ! what these Christians are, 
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect 
The thoughts of others ! — Pray you, tell me this ; 
If he should break his day, what should I gain 
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, 
Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship : 
If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 

Antonio. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 

Shylock. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's. 
Give him direction for this merry bond, 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight, 
See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently 
I will be with you. \Exit. 

Antonio. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 

The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 

Bassanio. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 

Antonio. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
My ships come home a month before the day. \Exeunt. 




THE CASKETS. 



ACT 11. 

Scene I. Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Flourish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his 
train ; Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. 

Morocco. Misiike me not for my complexion, 
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
Where Phoebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
And let us make incision for your love, 
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
Hath fear'd the valiant : by my love, I swear 
The best-regarded virgins of our clime 
Have loved it too. I would not change this hue, 
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 



ACT 11. SCENE I. 



57 



Portia. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes ; 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing : 
But if my father had not scanted me, 
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself 
His wife who wins me by that means I told you. 
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 
As any comer I have look'd on yet. 
For my affection. 

Morocco. Even for that I thank you : 

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets 
To try my fortune. By this scimitar. 
That slew the Sophy and a Persia^i prince 
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 
I would o'er-stare the sternest eyes that look, 
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth. 
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey. 
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while ! 
If Hercules and Lichas play at dice 
Which is the better man, the greater throw 
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
And die with grieving. 

Portia. You must take your chance ; 

And either not attempt to choose at all. 
Or swear, before you choose, if you choose wrong 
Never to speak to lady afterward 
In way of marriage : therefore be advis'd. 

Morocco. Nor will not. Come, bring me unto my chance. 

Portia. First, forward to the Temple : after dinner 
Your hazard shall be made. 



5^ 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Morocco. Good fortune then ! 

To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 

\Cornets^ and exeunt. 

Scene II. Venice. A street. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Launcelot. Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run 
from this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and 
tempts me, saying to me, ^Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good 
Launcelot,' or ' good Gobbo,' or ' good Launcelot Gobbo, use 
your legs, take the start, run away.' My conscience says, 
* No ; take heed, honest Launcelot \ take heed, honest Gob- 
bo,' or, as aforesaid, ' honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ; 
scorn running with thy heels.' Well, the most courageous 
fiend bids me pack : ' Via !' says the fiend j ' away !' says the 
fiend; 'for the heavens, rouse up a brave mind,' says the 
fiend, ' and run.' Well, my conscience, hanging about the 
neck of my heart, says very wisely to me, ' My honest friend 
Launcelot, being an honest man's son,' — or rather an honest 
woman's son, — well, my conscience says, ' Launcelot, budge 
not' 'Budge,' says the fiend. ' Budge not,' says my con- 
science. ' Conscience,' say I, ' you counsel w^ell ;' ' Fiend,' 
say I, ' you counsel well :' to be ruled by my conscience, I 
should stay with the Jew my master, who, God bless the 
mark, is a kind of devil ; and, to run away from the Jew, I 
should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is 
the devil himself Certainly the Jew is the very devil incarna- 
tion ; and, in my conscience, my conscience is a kind of hard 
conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The 
fiend gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; my 
heels are at your commandment; I will run. 

Enter Old Gobbo, with a basket. 

Gobbo. Master young man, you ! I pray you, which is the 
way to master Jew's t 



ACT II. SCENE IL 



59 



Laiincelot \_Aside\. O heavens ! this is my true-begotten 
father; who, being more than sand-bHnd, high-gravel-blind, 
knows me not : — I wdll try confusions with him. 

Gobbo. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the 
way to master Jew's ? 

Launcelot. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, 
but at the next turning of all, on your left ; marry, at the very 
next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the 
Jew's house. 

Gobbo. By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can 
you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, 
dwell with him or no ? 

Launcelot. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? — \Aside^^ 
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. — \To him.^ Talk 
you of young Master Launcelot ? 

Gobbo. No master, sir, but a poor man's son : his father, 
though I say't, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God he 
thanked, well to live. 

Launcelot. Well, let his father be what a will, we talk of 
young Master Launcelot. 

Gobbo. Your worship's friend and Launcelot. 

Launcelot. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech 
you, talk you of young Master Launcelot. 

Gobbo. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 

Launcelot. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 
Launcelot, father; for the young gentleman (according to 
fates and destinies and such odd sayings, the sisters three 
and such branches of learning) is indeed deceased, or, as you 
would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. 

Gobbo. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of 
my age, my very prop. 

Laimcelot [Aside]. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, 
a staff or a prop ? [To /iim.] Do you know me, father ? 

Gobbo. Alack the day ! I know you not, young gentleman : 
but, I pray you, tell me, is my boy (God rest his soul !) alive 
or dead ? 



6o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Launcelot. Do you not know me, father ? 

Gobbo. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 

Launcelot. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might 
fail of the knowing me : it is a wise father that knows his 
own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son. 
\Kneels^ Give me your blessing : truth will come to light ; 
murther cannot be hid long ; a man's son may, but in the 
end truth will out. 

Gobbo. Pray you, sir, stand up. I am sure you are not 
Launcelot, my boy. 

Launcelot. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, 
but give me your blessing : I am Launcelot, your boy that 
was, your son that is, your child that shall be. 

Gobbo. I cannot think you are my son. 

Launcelot. I know not what I shall think of that : but I am 
Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife 
is my mother. 

Gobbo. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, if thou 
be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord wor- 
shipped might he be ! what a beard hast thou got ! thou hast 
got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill-horse has on 
his tail. 

Launcelot. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows 
backward : I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I 
have of my face, when I last saw him. 

Gobbo. Lord ! how art thou changed ! How dost thou and 
thy master agree 1 I have brought him a present. How 
'gree you now? 

Launcelot. Well, well : but, for mine own part, as I have 
set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run 
some ground. My master's a very Jew : give him a present ! 
give him a halter : I am famished in his service ; you may 
tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you 
are come : give me your present to one Master. Bassanio, 
who indeed gives rare new liveries : if I serve not him, I will 



ACT II. SCENE II 6 1 

run as far as God has any ground. — O rare fortune I here 
comes thp man : — to him, father ; for I am a Jew if I serve 
the Jew any longer. 

Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers. 

Bassanio. You may do so j but let it be so hasted that 
supper be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See 
these letters delivered j put the liveries to making, and desire 
Gratiano to come 'anon to my lodging. \Exit a Servant. 

Lau7icelot. To him, father. 

Gobbo. God bless your worship ! 

Bassanio. Gramercy ! wouldst thou aught with me ? 

Gobbo. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 

Launcelot. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man; 
that would, sir, as my father shall specify — 

Gobbo. He hath a great infection, sir, as one would say, to 
serve — 

Launcelot. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the 
Jew, and have a desire, as my father shall specify, — 

Gobbo. His master and he, saving your worship's rever- 
ence, are scarce cater-cousins— 

Launcelot. To be brief, the very truth is, that the Jew, hav- 
ing done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I 
hope, an old man, shall frutify unto you, — 

Gobbo. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow 
upon your worship ; and my suit is — 

Launcelot. In very brief, the suit is impertinent to myself, 
as your worship shall know by this honest old man ; and, 
though I say it, though old man, yet, poor man, my father. 

Bassanio. One speak for both. — What would you ? 

Launcelot. Serve you, sir. 

Gobbo. That is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

Bassanio. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit. 
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day. 
And hath preferr'd thee ; if it be preferment . ■ 



62 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 

The follower of so poor a gentleman. ^ 

Launcelot. The old proverb is very well parted between my 
master Shylock and you, sir : you have the grace of God, sir, 
and he hath enough. 

Bass. Thou speak'st it well. — Go, father, with thy son. — 
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
My lodging out. — Give him a liveiy \To- his followers. 

More guarded than his fellows' : see it done.- 

Laimcelot. Father, in. — I cannot get a service, no ; I have 
ne'er a tongue in my head. — Well, if any man in Italy have a 
fairer table which doth offer to swear upon a book ! — I shall 
have good fortune. — Go to, here's a simple line of life ! here's 
a small trifle of wives : alas ! fifteen wives is nothing ! aleven 
widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man ; 
and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my 
life with the edge of a feather-bed, — here are simple 'scapes. 
Well, if Fortune be a w^oman, she's a good wench for this 
gear. — Father, come ; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the 
twinkling of an eye. \Exeimt Laimcelot and Old Gobbo. 

Bassanio. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this. 
These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 
Return in haste ; for I do feast to-night 
My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. 

Leonaj'do. My best endeavours shall be done herein. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gratiano. Where is your master ? 

Leonardo. Yonder, sir, he walks. \Exit. 

Gratiano. Signior Bassanio ! 
Bassanio. Gratiano ! 
Gratia7io. I have a suit to you. 

Bassanio. You have obtain'd it. 

Gratiano. You must not deny me. I must go with you to 
Belmont. 



ACT II. SCENE IIL 63 

Bassanio. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano ; 
Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of voice j — 
Parts that become thee happily enough 
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
But where they are not known, why, there they show 
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behaviour 
I be misconstrued in the place I go to. 
And lose my hopes. 

Gratiano. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 

If I do not put on a sober habit, 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely. 
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say ' amen,' 
Use all the observance of civility. 
Like one well studied in a sad ostent 
To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

JBassanio. Well, we shall see your bearing. 

Gratiano. Nay, but I bar to-night : you shall not gauge me 
By what we do to-night. . 

Bassanio. No, that were pity : 

I would entreat you rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment. But fare you well ; 
I have some business. 

GratiaJto. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest ; 
But we will visit you at supper-time. [Exeimt. 

Scene IIL The same. A room in Shylock's house. 

Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 
Jessica. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
Our house is hell, and thou, a merr}^ devil, 



64 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee. 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter ; do it secretly ; 
And so farewell : I would not have my father 
See me talk with thee. 

Launcelot. Adieu ! tears exhibit my tongue. Most beauti- 
ful pagan, most sweet Jew, adieu ! these foolish drops do 
somewhat drown my manly spirit : adieu ! 

yessica. Farewell, good Launcelot. — ■ \Exit Launcelot. 
Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
To be asham'd to be my father's child ! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. O Lorenzo ! 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 
Become a Christian and thy loving wife. \Exit. 

Scene IV. The same. A street. 

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. 

Lorenzo. Nay, we will slink away in supper-time. 
Disguise us at my lodging, and return, 
All in an hour. 

Gratiano. We have not made good preparation. 

Salarino. We have not spoke us yet of torch-bearers. 

Salanio. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd. 
And better, in my mind, not undertook. 

Lorenzo. 'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours 
To furnish us. — 

Enter Launcelot, with a letter. 

Friend Launcelot, what's the news ? 
Lauficelot. An it shall please you to break up this, it shall 
seem to signify. 



ACT II. SCENE V. 



65 



Lorenzo. I know the hand ; in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
And whiter than the paper it writ on 
Is the fair hand that writ. 

Gratiano. Love-news, in faith. 

Launcelot. By your leave, sir. 

Lorenzo. Whither goest thou ? 

Launcelot. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup 
to-night with my new master the Christian. 

Lorenzo. Hold here, take this. — Tell gentle Jessica 
I will not fail her : — speak it privately. 

Go. — Gentlemen, \Exit Launcelot, 

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night ? 
I am provided of a torch-bearer. 

Salarino. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 

Salanio. And so will I. 

Lorenzo. Meet me and Gratiano 

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 

Salarino. 'Tis good we do so. \Exeunt Salarino and Salanio, 

Gratiano. Was not that letter from fair Jessica ? 

Lorenzo. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
How I shall take her from her father's house ; 
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with j 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven. 
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
Unless she do it under this excuse. 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest. 
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Exeunt. 

Scene V. The same. Before ShylocJi's house. 

Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 

Shy lock. Well, thou shalt see ; thy eyes shall be thy judge, 

E 



66 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
What, Jessica ! — thou shalt not gormandize, 
As thou hast done with me, — what, Jessica ! — 
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out. — 
Why, Jessica, I say ! 

Launcelot. Why, Jessica ! 

Shylock. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 

Launcelot. Your worship was wont to tell me I could do 
nothing without bidding. 

Enter Jessica. 

yessica. Call you ? what is your will .'' 

Shylock. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica : 
There are my keys. — But wherefore should I go ? 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. — Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house. — I am right loath to go : 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest. 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 

Launcelot. I beseech you, sir, go : my young master doth 
expect your reproach. 

Shylock. So do I his. 

Launcelot. And they have conspired together \ — I will not 
say you shall see a masque ; but if you do, then it was not 
for nothing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday 
last at six o'clock i' th' morning, falling out that year on Ash- 
Wednesday was four year in th' afternoon. 

Shylock. What ! are there masques ? — Hear you me, Jessica : 
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife. 
Clamber you not up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces ; 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 



ACT 11. SCENE VI. 



67 



Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. — By Jacob's staff, I swear, 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night \ 
But I will go. — Go you before me, sirrah ; 
Say I will come. 

Laujicelot. I will go before, sir. — Mistress, look out at win- 
dow, for all this : 

There will come a Christian by. 

Will be worth a Jewess' eye. \Exit. 

Shylock. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 

yessica. His words were ' Farewell, mistress ;' nothing else. 

Shylock. The patch is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
Snail-snow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild-cat : drones hive not with me ; 
Therefore I part with him, and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 
His borrow'd purse. — Well, Jessica, go in : 
Perhaps I will return immediately. 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
Fast bind, fast find ; 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. \Exit. 

jfessica. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. \Exit. 

Scene VI. The same. 

Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. 

Gratiafto. This is the pent-house under which Lorenzo 
Desired us to make a stand. 

Salarino. His hour is almost past. 

Gratiano. And it is marvel he out-dwells his hour, 
For lovers ever run before the clock. 

Salarino. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 



58 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Gratiano. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with tlie unbated fire 
That he did pace them first ? All things that are 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a younger, or a prodigal, 
The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind ! 
How like a prodigal doth she return. 
With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails. 
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 

Salarino. Here comes Lorenzo : — more of this hereafter, 

E7iter Lorenzo. 
Lorenzo. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ; 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait : 
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
I'll watch as long for you then. — Approach ; 
Here dwells my father Jew. — Ho ! who's within ? 

Enter Jessica,.<3;^^7;^, in boy's clothes. 

yessica. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 

Lorenzo. Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jessica. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love indeed. 
For who love I so much ? And now who knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 

• Lorenzo. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou 
art. 

Jessica. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me. 
For I am much asham'd of my exchange : 
But love is blind and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 



ACT II. SCENE VI 



69 



For if they could, Cupid himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 

Lorenzo. Descend, for you must be my torch-bearer. 

yessica. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
They in themselves, good sooth, are too-too light. 
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
And I should be obscur'd. 

Lorenzo. So are you, sweet. 

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
But come at once ; 

For the close night doth play the runaway. 
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 

jFessica. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With some more ducats, and be with you straight. \Exit above. 

Gratiano. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. 

Lorenzo. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true ; 
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; 
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant sOuL* 

Enter Jessica, below. 

What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen \ away ! 
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 

\Exit with yessica and Salarino. 

Enter Antonio. 

AntoJiio. Who's there ? 

Gratiano. Signior Antonio ! 

Antonio. Fie, fie, Gratiano ! where are all the rest ? 
'Tis nine o'clock ; our friends all stay for you. 
No masque to-night : the wind is come about ; 
Bassanio presently will go aboard. 
I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 



^o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Gratia7to. I am glad on't : I desire no more delight 
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. \Exeunt. 

Scene VII. Belmont. A room i?i Portia's house. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with the Prince of 
Morocco, and their trains. 

Portia. Go, draw aside the curtains, and discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince. — 
Now make your choice. 

Morocco. The first, of gold, who this inscription bears. 
Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire. 
The second, silver, which this promise carries. 
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath. 
How shall I know if I do choose the right ? 

Portia. The one of them contains my picture, prince : 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 

Morocco. Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see ; 
I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
What says this leaden casket ? 
Who chooseth w.e must 'give and hazard all he hath. 
Must give — ^for what ? For lead ? Hazard for lead ? 
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
A golden mind stoops not to shews of dross ; 
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 
What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. 
As much as he deserves ? Pause there, Morocco, 
And weigh thy value with an even hand : 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation. 
Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 
May not extend so far as to the lady : 



ACT JI. SCENE VII. 71 

And yet to be afeard of my deserving 
Were but a weak disabling of myself 
As much as I deserve ? Why, that's the lady : 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
In graces and in qualities of breeding ; 
But more than these in love I do deserve. 
What if I stray'd no further, but chose here ? — 
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold ; 
Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire. 
Why, that's the lady : all the world desires her : 
From the four corners of the earth they come. 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
The Hyrcanian deserts and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia are as throughfares now 
For princes to come view fair Portia. 
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spets in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spirits, but they come, 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 
One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 
Is't like that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation 
To think so base a thought : it were too gross 
To rib her cerecloth in the obscure grave. 
aOr shall I think in silver she's immur'd, 
Being ten times undervalued to tried gold ? 
O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 
A coin that bears the figure of an angel 
Stamped in gold ; but that's insculp'd upon : 
But here an angel in a golden bed 
Lies all within. — Deliver me the key : 
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 

Portia. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there. 
Then I am yours. \He unlocks the golden casket. 

Morocco. O hell ! what have we here .'' 



72 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll ! I'll read the writing. 
All that glisters is not gold ; 
Often have you heard that told : 
Many a man his life hath sold. 
But my outside to behold : 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold, 
Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
Your answer had not been inscroWd : 
Fare you well ; your suit is cold. 
Cold, indeed ; and labour lost : 
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost ! 
Portia, adieu ! I have too griev'd a heart 
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 

\Exit with his train. 
Portia. A gentle riddance. — Draw the curtains ; go. 
Let all of his complexion choose me so. 

\Exeu7tt. Flourish of Cornets. 

Scene VIII. Venice. A street. 

Enter Salarino a7id Salanio. 

Salarino. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail : 
With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 

Salanio. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the Duke, 
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 

Salarino. He came too late, the ship was under sail : 
But there the Duke was given to understand 
That in a gondola were seen together 
Lorenzo and his amonous Jessica : 
Besides, Antonio certified the Duke 
They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 

Salanio. I never heard a passion so confus'd, 



ACT II. SCENE VIII. 

So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 

As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 

* My daughter ! O my ducats ! O my daughter ! 

Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats ! 

Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! 

A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 

Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter ! 

And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones. 

Stolen by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl ; 

She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats.' 

Salarino. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 

Salanio. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
Or he shall pay for this. 

Salarino. Marry, well remember'd. 

I reason'd with a Frenchman yesterday. 
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
The French and English, there miscarried 
A vessel of our country richly fraught. • 
I thought upon Antonio when he told me, 
And wish'd in silence that it were not his. 

Salanio. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 

Salarino. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return : he answer'd, ' Do not so ; 
Slubber not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time ; 
And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
Let it not enter in your mind of love. 
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
To courtship, and such fair ostents of love 
As shall conveniently become you there.' 
And even there, his eye being big with tears. 



73 



74 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 

And with affection wondrous sensible 

He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 

Salanio. I think he only loves the world for him. 
I pray thee, let us go and find him out. 
And quicken his embraced heaviness 
With some delight or other. 

Salarino. Do we so. \Exeunt 

Scene IX. Belmont. A room in Portia's house. 

Enter Nerissa with a Servitor. 

Ner. Quick, quick, I pray thee ; draw the curtain straight : 
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
And comes to his election presently. 

Flourish of Comets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, 
Portia, a?id their trains. 

Portia. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince : 
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd : 
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord. 
You must be gone from hence immediately. 

Arragon. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things : 
First, never to unfold to any one ^ 

Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail 
Of the right casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in way of marriage ; 
Lastly, if I do fail in fortune of my choice. 
Immediately to leave you and be gone. 

Portia. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self 

Arragon. And so have I address'd me. Fortune now 
To my heart's hope ! — Gold, silver, and base lead. 
Who chooseth 7ne must give and hazard all he hath. 



ACT II. SCENE IX. 75 

You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see : — 
Who chooseth me shall gam what many me?i desire. 
What many men desire ! that many may be meant 
By the fool multitude, that choose by show. 
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
Which pries not to th' interior, but, like the martlet, 
Builds in the weather, on the outward wall, 
Even in the force and road of casualty. 
I will not choose what many men desire. 
Because I will not jump with common spirits, 
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves : 
And well said too ; for who shall go about 
To cozen fortune and be honourable 
Without the stamp of merit .'' Let none presume 
To wear an undeserved dignity. 
O, that estates, degrees and ofi&ces 
Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honour 
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer ! 
How many then should cover that stand bare ! 
How many be commanded that command ! 
How much low peasantry would then be glean 'd 
From the true seed of honour ; and how much honour 
Pick'd from the chaif afid ruin of the times, 
To be new-varnish'd ! Well, but to my choice : 
Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves. 
I will assume desert. — Give me a key for this. 
And instantly unlock my fortunes here. 

\IIe opens the silver casket. 

Portia. Too long a pause for that which you find there. 

Arragon. What's here ? the portrait of a blinking idiot, 
Presenting me a schedule ! I will read it. 



76 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 

How much unUke my hopes and my deservings ! 

Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves. 

Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 

Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 

Portia. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices, 
And of opposed natures. 

Arragon. • What is here ? 

The fire seven times tried this : 
Seven times tried that judgment is, 
That did never choose amiss. 
Some there be that shadows kiss ; 
Such have but a shadow's bliss. 
There befools alive, I wis, 
Silver' d d* er ; and so was this. 
Take what wife you will to bed, 
I will ever be your head : 
So be gone : you are sped. 
Still more fool I shall appear 
By the time I linger here : 
With one fool's head I came to woo, 
But I go away with two. — 
Sweet, adieu ! I'll keep my oath, 
Patiently to bear my wroth. 

\Exeunt Arragon and train. 
Portia. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. 
O, these deliberate fools ! when theytio choose. 
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 

Nerissa. The ancient saying is no heresy, — 
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
Portia. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 

Enter a Servant. 

Servant. Where is my lady ? 

Portia. Here : what would my lord ? 



ACT II. SCENE IX. 

Servant. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 
To signify th' approaching of his lord. 
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets ; 
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love : 
A day in April never came so sweet, 
To show how costly summer was at hand. 
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

Portia. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee. 
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him.— 
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see 
Quick Cupid's post that comes so mannerly. 

Nerissa. Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be ! 



77 



\Exeunt. 





RIALTO BRIDGE, 



ACT III. 

Scene I. Venice. A street. 

Enter Salanio and Salarino. 

Salanio. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 

Salarino. Why, yet it lives there unchecked that Antonio 
hath a ship of rich lading wracked on the narrow seas ; the 
Goodwins, I think they call the place : a very dangerous flat 
and fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, 
as they say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her 
word. 

Salanio. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever 
knapped ginger or made her neighbours believe she wept for 
the death of a third husband. But it is true, without any 



ACT III. SCENE I. 79 

slips of prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk, that 

the good Antonio, the honest Antonio, O that I had a 

title good enough to keep his name company !— 

Salarino. Come, the full stop. 

Salanio. Ha ! what sayest thou ? — Why, the end is, he hath 
lost a ship, 

Salarino. I would it might prove the end of his losses ! 

Salanio. Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross 
my prayer ; for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. — 

Enter Shylock. 

How now, Shylock ? what news among the merchants ? 

Shylock. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of 
my daughter's flight. 

Salarino. That's certain : I, for my part, knew the tailor 
that made the wings she flew withal. 

Salanio. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was 
fledged ; and then it is the complexion of them all to leave 
the dam. 

Shylock. My own flesh and blood to. rebel ! 

Salarino. There is more difference between thy flesh and 
hers than between jet and ivory ; more between your bloods 
than there is between red wine and Rhenish. But tell us, 
do you hear whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no? 

Shylock. There I have another bad match : a bankrupt, a 
prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a 
beggar, that was used to come so smug upon the mart ; let 
him look to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; let 
him look to his bond : he was wont to lend money for a 
Christian courtesy ; let him look to his bond. 

Salarino. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take 
his flesh : what's that good for t 

Shylock. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else, it 
will feed my revenge. He hath disgraced me, and hindered 
me half a million ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, 



8o THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends^ 
heated mine enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am a Jew. 
Hath not a Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimen- 
sions, senses, affections, passions ? fed with the same food, 
hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, 
healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same 
winter and summer, as a Christian is ? If you prick us, do 
we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not4augh?Jf you poi- 
son us, do we not die ? and if you wrong us, shall we not re- 
venge ? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you 
in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility ? 
Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suf- 
ferance be, by Christian example ? Why, revenge. The vil- 
lany you teach me, I will execute ; and it shall go hard but 
I will better the instruction. 

Enter a Servant. 
Servant. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house, 
and desires to speak with you both. 

Salarino. We have been up and down to seek him. 

Enter Tubal. 

Salanio. Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot 
be matched, unless the devil himself turn Jew. 

[Exeunt Salanio, Salarino, a7td Servant. 

Shylock. How now. Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? hast 
thou found my daughter ? 

Tubal. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot 
find her. 

Shylock. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone, 
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The curse nev- 
er fell upon our nation till now ; I never felt it till now ; two 
thousand ducats in that ; and other precious, precious jewels, 
I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels 
in her ear ! Would she were hearsed at my foot, and the 



ACT III. SCENE I. 8 1 

ducats in her coffin ! No news of them ? — Why, so : and I 
know not how much is spent in the search : why, thou loss 
upon loss ! the thief gone with so much, and so much to find 
the thief; and no satisfaction, no revenge : nor no ill luck 
stirring but what lights o' my shoulders ; no sighs but o' my 
breathing ; no tears but o' my shedding. 

Tubal. Yes, other men have ill luck too. Antonio, as I 
heard in Genoa, — 

Shy lock. What, what, what ? ill luck, ill luck ? 

Tubal. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 

Shylock. I thank God ! I thank God ! Is it true ? is it true ? 

Titbal. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 
wrack. 

Shylock. I thank thee, good Tubal! — Good news, good 
news ! ha, ha ! — Where ? in Genoa ? 

Tubal. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one 
night fourscore ducats. 

Shy. Thou stick'st a dagger in me. I shall never see my 
gold again. Fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore ducats ! 

Tubal. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my 
company to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. 

Shylock. I am very glad of it. I'll plague him j I'll tor- 
ture him. I am glad of it. 

Tubal. One of them shewed me a ring that he had of your 
daughter for a monkey. 

Shylock. Out upon her ! Thou torturest me. Tubal : it 
was my turquoise ; I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor : 
I would not have given it for a wilderness of. monkeys. 

Tubal. But Antonio is certainly undone. 

Shylock. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee 
me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have 
the heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I 
can make what merchandise I will. Go, go. Tubal, and 
meet me at our synagogue : go, good Tubal ; at our syna- 
gogue. Tubal. \Exeunt. 



82 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Scene II. Belmont. A room in Portias house. 

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and 
Attendants. 

Portia. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two 
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company : therefore forbear a while. = 
There's something tells me, but it is not love, 
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
But lest you should not understand me well, — 
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
I would detain you here some month or two, 
Before you venture for me. I could teach you 
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes. 
They have o'erlook'd me and divided me ; 
One half of me is yours, the other half yours, — 
Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours. 
And so all yours. O, these naughty times 
Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time, 
To eke it, and to draw it out in length. 
To stay you from- election. 

Bassanio. Let me choose ; 

For as I am, I live upon the rack. 

Portia. Upon the rack, Bassanio ! then confess 
What treason there is mingled with your love. 

Bassanio. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love. 



ACT III. SCENE II. 3^ 

There may as well be amity and life 

'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 

Portia. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 
Where men enforced do speak anything. 

Bassaiiio. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 

Portia. Well then, confess and live. 

Bassanio. Confess and love 

Had been the very sum of my confession. 

happy torment, when my torturer 
Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

Poi'tia. Away, then ! I am lock'd in one of them : 
If you do love me, you will find me out. 
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. — 
Let music sound while he doth make his choice j 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-l^ke end, 
Fading in music : that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 
And watery death-bed for him. He m.ay win j 
And what is music then ? Then music is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear. 
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
With no less presence, but with much more love. 
Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 
The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 
To the sea-monster : I stand for sacrifice j 
The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 
With bleared visages, come forth to view 
The issue of th' exploit. Go, Hercules ! 
Live thou, I live. — With much more dismay 

1 view the fight, than thou that mak'st the fray. 



84 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



A Song, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. 
Tell me where is fancy bred, 
Or in the heart or in the head 7 
How begot, how nou7'ished ? 
Reply, reply. 

It is engender' d in the eyes. 

With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 

In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring fancy's knell: 
ril begin it, — Difig, dong, bell 

All. Ding, dong, bell. 

Bas. So may the outward shews be least themselves : 
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt 
But, being season'd with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the shew of evil ? In religion, 
What "damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
There is no vice so simple but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts : 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, 
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ; 
And these assume but valour's excrement 
To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty, 
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight ; 
Which therein works a miracle in nature. 
Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped snaky golden locks. 
Which make such wanton gambols with the wind. 
Upon supposed fairness, often known 



ACT III. SCENE 11. 



85 



To be the dowry of a second head ; 

The skull that bred them, in the sepulchre. 

Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 

To a most dangerous sea, the beauteous scarf 

Veiling an Indian beauty ; — in a word. 

The seeming truth which cunning times put on 

To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 

Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee ; 

Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 

'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meagre lead, 

Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught. 

Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence ; 

And here choose I. Joy be the consequence ! 

Portia [Aside]. How all the other passions fleet to air, 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair, 
And shuddering fear, and green-eyed jealousy ! 

love ! be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 
In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess. 

1 feel too much thy blessing ; make it less, 
For fear I surfeit. 

Bassanio. What find I here ? 

[ Opening the leaden casket. 
Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demi-god 
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips. 
Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 
The painter plays the spider, and hath woven 
A golden mesh t' entrap the hearts of men 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes ! — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his. 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 



S6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

In underprizing it, so far this shadow 

Doth limp behind the substance. — Here's the scroll, 

The continent and summary of my fortune. 

You that choose not by the view, 
Chance as fair, and choose as true I 
Si?2ce this fortune falls to you, 
Be conte7it a?td seek no new. 
If you be well pleas' d with this, 
And hold your fortune for your bliss, 
Turn you where your lady is, 
And claim her with a loving kiss. 

A gentle scroll. — Fair lady, by your leave ; 

I come by note, to give and to receive. [Kissing her. 

Like one of two contending in a prize. 

That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes. 

Hearing applause and universal shout, 

Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 

Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 

So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so, 

As doubtful whether what I see be true. 

Until confirm 'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 

Portia. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand. 
Such as I am : though for myself alone 
I would not be ambitious in my wish. 
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself, 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich, 
That only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends. 
Exceed account : but the full sum of me 
Is sum of nothing ; which, to term in gross, 
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractis'd : 
Happy in this, she is. not yet so old 
But she may learn ; happier than this, 



ACT III. SCENE II. 

She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all is that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now. 
This house, these servants, and this same myself 
Are yours, my lord. I give them with this ring ; 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
Let it presage the ruin of your love. 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

Bassanio. Madam, you have bereft me of all words ; 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins : 
And there is such confusion in my powers 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude j 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
O, then be bold to say, Bassanio's dead ! 

Nerissa. My lord and lady, it is now our time. 
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper. 
To cry, good joy. Good joy, my lord and lady ! 

Gratiano. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
And when your honours mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you. 
Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bassanio. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 

Gratiano. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 



87 



88 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid j 

You lov'd, I lov'd j for intermission 

No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 

Your fortune stood upon the casket there, 

And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 

For wooing here until I sweat again. 

And swearing till my very roof was dry 

With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 

I got a promise of this fair one here 

To have her love, provided that your fortune 

Achiev'd her mistress. 

Portia. Is this true, Nerissa? 

Nerissa. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 

Bassanio. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 

Gratiano. Yes, faith, my lord. 

Bassanio. Our feast shall be much honour'd in your mar- 
riage. 

Gratiano. But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel "i 
What ! and my old Venetian friend, Salerio ? 

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salerio, a messenger 
from Venice. 

Bassanio. Lorenzo and Salerio, welcome hither ; 
If that the youth of my new interest here 
Have power to bid you welcome. — By your leave, 
I bid my very friends and countrymen. 
Sweet Portia, welcome. 

Portia. So do I, my lord : 

They are entirely welcome. 

Lorenzo. I thank your honour. — For my part, my lord. 
My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
But meeting with Salerio by the way, 
He did entreat me, past all saying nay. 
To come with him along. 

Salerio. I did, my lord ; 



ACT III. SCENE IL 89 

And I have reason for it. Signor Antonio 

Commends him to you. {Gives Bassanio a letter. 

Bassanio. Ere 1 ope his letter, 

I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 

Salerio. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind j 
Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
Will show you his estate. 

Gratiatio. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 
Your hand, Salerio : what's the news from Venice t 
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
I know he will be glad of our success ; 
We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece. 

Salerio. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost ! 

Portia. There are some shrewd contents in yon same 
paper. 
That steals the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 
Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
Could turn so much the constitution 
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ? — 
With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself. 
And I must freely have the half of anything 
That this same paper brings you. 

Bassanio. O sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady. 
When I did first impart my love to you, 
I freely told you, all the wealth I had . 

Ran in my veins — I was a gentleman : 
And then I told you true ; and yet, dear lady, 
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
That I was worse than nothing j for indeed 
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
Engag'd my friend to his mere enemy, 



90 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 
The paper as the body of my friend, 
And every word in it a gaping wound, 
Issuing life-blood. — But is it true, Salerio ? 
Have all his ventures fail'd t What, not one hit ? 
From Tripolis, from Mexico, and England, 
From Lisbon, Barbary, and India, 
And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 
Of merchant-marring rocks .'* 

Salerio. Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. Never did I know 
A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
So keen and greedy to confound a man. 
He plies the Duke at morning and at night. 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state. 
If they deny him justice. Twenty merchants, 
The Duke himself, and the magnificoes 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
But none can drive him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 

yessica. When I was with him I have heard him swear 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen. 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him ; and I know, my lord, 
If law, authority, and power deny not. 
It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

Portia. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 

Bassanio. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man. 
The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
In doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honour more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 



ACT III. SCENE III. gi 

Po7'tia. What sum owes he the Jew ? 

Bassanio. For me, three thousand ducats. 

Portia. What, no more ? 

Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond j 
Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife. 
And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
W^hen it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
My maid Nerissa and myself, mean time. 
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away ! 
For you shall hence upon your wedding-day. 
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer : 
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. — ' 
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 

Bassanio [Reads]. Sweet Bassanio., my ships have all mis- 
carried, my creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond 
to the yew is forfeit ; a7id since in paying it, it is impossible I 
should live, all debts are cleared between you and I, if I might 
see you at my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure : if 
your love do not persuade you to co7ne, let not my letter. 

Portia. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 

Bassanio. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
I will make haste : but, till I come again. 

No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay. 

Nor rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. \Exeunt. 

Scene III. Venice. A street. 

Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 
Shy lock. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy. — 



92 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

This is the fool that lends out money gratis. — 
Gaoler, look to him. 

Antonio. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Shy lock. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs. 
The Duke shall grant me justice. — I do wonder, o 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 
To come abroad with him at his request. 

Antonio. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shylock. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
I'll have no speaking : I will have my bond. \Exit. 

Salarino. It is the most impenetrable cur 
That ever kept with men. 

A?ttonio. Let him alone : 

I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
He seeks my life ; his reason well I know. 
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
Many that have at times made moan to me ; 
Therefore he hates me. 

Salarino. I am sure the Duke 

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 

Antonio. The Duke cannot deny the course of law : 
For the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be denied, 
Will much impeach the justice of the state ; 
Since that the trade and profit of the city 
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore go : 
These griefs and losses have so bated me, 
That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 



ACT III. SCENE IV. 



93 



To-morrow to my bloody creditor. — 

Well, gaoler, on. — Pray God, Bassanio come 

To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! \Exeunt. 

Scene IV. Belmont. A room in Portions house. 

Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar. 

Lorenzo. Madam, although I speak it in your presence. 
You have a noble and a true conceit 
Of god-like amity ; which appears most strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But if you knew to whom you show this honour, 
How true a gentleman you send relief. 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
I know you would be prouder of the work 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Portia. I never did repent for doing good, 
Nor shall not now : for in companions 
That do converse and waste the time together. 
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love. 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit ; 
Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
Being the bosom lover of my lord, 
Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 
How little is the cost I have bestow'd 

In purchasing the semblance of my soul ** 

JFrom out the state of hellish cruelty ! 
This comes too near the praising of myself: 
Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
The husbandry and manage of my house 
Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 
I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow 
To live in prayer and contemplation, 



94 ^^^ MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

*>. 
Only attended by Nerissa here, 

Until her husband and my lord's return. 
There is a monastery two miles off; 
And there will we abide. I do desire you 
Not to deny this imposition, 
The which my love and some necessity 
Now lays upon you. 

Lorenzo. Madam, with all my heart : . 

I shall obey you in all fair commands. 

Portia. My people do already know my mind, 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
So fare you well, till we shall meet again. 

Lorenzo. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you ! 

yessica. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 

Portia. I thank you for your wish and am well pleas'd 
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 

\Exeunt yessica and Lorenzo. 
Now, Balthasar, 

As I have ever found thee honest-true, 
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
And use thou all the endeavour of a man 
In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand. Doctor Bellario ; 
And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee. 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 
Unto the tranect,to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words. 
But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 

Balthasar. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. \Exit. 

Portia. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
That you yet know not of. We'll see our husbands 
Before they think of us. 

Nerissa. Shall they see us ? 

Portia. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 



ACT III. SCENE V. 



95 



That they shall think we are accomplished 

With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, 

When we are both accoutred like young men, 

I'll prove the prettier fellow of the tw,o, 

And wear my dagger with the braver grace ; 

And speak between the change of man and boy 

With a reed voice ; and turn two mincing steps 

Into a manly stride j and speak of frays 

Like a fine bragging youth ; and tell quaint lies, 

How honourable -ladies sought my love, 

Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 

I could not do v/ithal : then I'll repent. 

And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them. 

And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell. 

That men shall swear I have discontinued school 

Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 

A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 

Which I will practise. 

But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 

When I am in my coach, which stays for us 

At the park gate ; and therefore haste away, 

For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt. 

Scene V. The same. A garden. 

Efiter Launcelot attd Jessica. 

Latmcelof. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the father 
are to be laid upon the children : therefore, I promise you, 
I fe?r v'j-u. I vas always plain with you, and so now I 
spe agitation of the matter : therefore be of good 

chet:r, toi uuly I think you are damned. There is but one 
hope in it t|iat can do you any good. 

jfcssica. And >vhat hope is that, I pray thee ? 

launcelot. Mrry, you may partly hope that you are not 
the lew's d:'/..ij>:h.er. 



g5 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Jessica. So the sins of my mother should be visited upon 
me. 

Launcelot. Truly then I fear you are damned both by fa- 
ther and mother : thus ^'hen I shun Scylla, your father, I fall 
into Charybdis, your mother : well, you are gone both ways. 

Jessica. I shall be saved by my husband \ he hath made 
me a Christian. 

Launcelot. Truly, the more to blame he : we were Chris- 
tians enow before j e'en as many as could well live, one by 
another. This making of Christians will -raise the price of 
hogs : if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly 
have a rasher on the coals for money. 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Jessica. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : 
here he comes. 
• Lorenzo. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot. 

Jessica. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo : Launcelot 
and I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me 
in heaven, because I am a Jew's daughter : and he says, you 
are no good member of the commonwealth, for in converting 
Jews to Christians you raise the price of pork. 

Lorenzo. I think the best grace of wit will shortly turn into 
silence, and discourse grow commendable in none only but 
parrots. — Go in, sirrah ; bid them prepare for dinner. 

Launcelot. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 

Lore7izo. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you ! then 
bid them prepare dinner. 

Launcelot. That is done too, sir ; only, cover is the word. 

Lorenzo. Will you cover then, sir ? 

Launcelot. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my dut}^ 

Lorenzo. Yet more quarrelling with occasion ! Wilt thou 
show the whole wealth of thy wit in aft instant ? 1 pray thee, 
understand a plain man in his plain meaning : go to thy fel- 
lows ; bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we 
will come in to dinner. 



ACT III. SCENE V. 



97 



Launcelot. For the table, sir, it shall be served in ; for the 
meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in to dinner, sir, 
why, let it be as humours and conceits shall govern. \Exit. 

Lorenzo. O dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words ; and I do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica .'* 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ? 

jfessica. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
And if on earth he do not mean it, it 
Is reason he should never come to heaven. 
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match, 
And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
And Portia one, there must be something else 
Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world 
Hath not her fellow. 

Lore7izo. Even such a husband 

Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 

yessica. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 

Lorenzo. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner. 

yessica. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach, 

Lorenzo. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things 
I shall digest it. 

yessica. Well, I'll set you forth. \Exeunt. 

G 




COLONNADE OF DUCAL PALACE, VENICE. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. Venice. A court of justice. 

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, 
Gratiano, Salerio, and others. 

Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 

Anto7iio. Ready, so please your grace. 

Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Uncapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Antonio. I have heard 

Your grace hath, ta'en great pains to quahfy 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate. 
And that no lawful means can carry me 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 

Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury, and am arm'd 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit. 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

Salerio. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 

Enter Shylock. 

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. — 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act j and then 'tis thought 
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse, more strange 
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, 
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, 
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety of the principal j 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
That have of late so huddled on his back, 
Enow to press a royal merchant down. 
And pluck commiseration of his state 
From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
To offices of tender courtesy. 
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 

Shylock. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose ; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond. 
If you deny it, let the danger light ^ 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have - 
A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 
Three thousand ducats. I'll not answer that : 



99 



•lOo THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

But, say, it is my humour : is it answer'd ? * 

What if my house be troubled with a rat. 

And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 

To have it baned ? What, are you answer'd yet ? 

Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 

Some, that are mad if they behold a cat : 

Masters of passion sway it to the mood 

Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer : 

As there is no firm reason to be rendered 

Why he cannot abide a gaping pig, 

Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 

So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 

More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 

Bassanio. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy lock. I am not bound to please thee with my answers. 

Bassanio. Do all men kill the things they do not love ? 

Shylock. Hates any man the thing he would not kill ? 

Bassanio. Every offence is not a hate at first. 

Shylock. What, wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee 
twice ? 

Antonio. I pray you, think you question with the Jew. 
You may as well go stand upon the beach. 
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops and to make no noise. 
When they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well do anything most hard. 
As seek to soften that — than which what harder ?— 
His Jewish heart. Therefore, I do beseech you, 
Make no more offers, use no farther means. 



ACT IV. SCENE I. lOi 

But with all brief and plain conveniency 
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 

Bassanio. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shylock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 

Duke. Ho"w shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none ? 

Shylock. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong ? 
You have among you many a purchas'd slave, 
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts. 
Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
Be season'd with such viands ! You will answer, 
The slaves are ours. — So do I answer you : 
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him. 
Is dearly bought \ 'tis mine, and I will have it. 
If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court, 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
Come here to-day. 

Salerio. My lord, here stays without 

A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 

Bassanio. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 

Antonio. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 



I02 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Drops earliest to the ground j and so let me. 
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 

Nerissa. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace. 

[^Presenting a letter. 

Bassanio. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly ? 

Shylock. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 

Gratiano. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can. 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. Can no prayers pierce thee ? 

Shylock. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 

Gratiano. O, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
And for thy life let justice be accus'd ! 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith, 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
\ Into the trunks of men. Thy currish spirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolvish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 

Shylock. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud. 
Repair thy wit, gopd youth, or it will fall 
To endless ruin. — I stand here for law. 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court. — 
Where is he ? 

Nerissa. He attendeth here hard by, 

To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 



ACT IV. SCENE L 103 

Duke. With all -my heart. — Some three or four of you 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. — 
Mean time, the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 

Clerk [Reads]. Your grace shall understand that at the re- 
ceipt of your letter I am very sick : but in the iiistant that your 
messenger came, in loving visitation was with 7ne a young doctor 
of Rome ; his name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the 
cause in cotitroversy between the yew and Antonio the fner chant ; 
we turned o'er many books together : he is furnished with my 
opinion; which, bettered with his own lear7iing, the greatness 
whereof I cannot enough commend, comes with him, at my im- 
portimity, to fill up your grace's request in my stead. I beseech 
you, let his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a rev- 
erend esti7?iation ; for I never knew so young a body with so old 
a head. I leave hiiJi to your gracious acceptance, whose trial 
shall better publish his comme7idation. 

Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes : 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. — 

E7iter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. 

Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? 

Portia. I did, my lord. 

Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court ? 

Portia. I am informed throughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew.^ 

Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

Portia. Is your name Shylock .'' 

Shylock. « Shylock is my name. 

Portia. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow j 
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. — 
You stand within his danger, do. you not? 

A7ito7iio. Ay, so he says. 



I04 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Portia, Do you confess the bond ? 

Antonio. I do. 

Portia. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shylock. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 

Portia. The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blest j 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway ; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. . I have spoke thus much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 

Shylock. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law," 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

Portia. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 

Bassanio. Yes, here I taider it for him in the court ; 
Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er. 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 
If this will not suffice, it must appear 
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 105 

Wrest once the law to your authority : 
To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

Portia. It must not be. There is no power in Venice 
Can alter a decree established : 
'Twill be recorded for a precedent. 
And many an error by the same example 
Will rush into the state. It cannot be. 

Shylock. A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel ! 
O wise young judge, how do I honour thee ! 

Portia. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

Shylock. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

Portia. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. 

Shylock. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven : 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
No, not for Venice. 

Portia. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. — Be merciful : 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shylock. When it is paid according to the tenour. — ■ 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge j 
You know the law ; your exposition 
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
Proceed to judgment. By my soul I swear, 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me. I stay here on my bond. 

Antonio. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 

Portia. Why then, thus it is : 

You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 

Shylock. O noble judge ! O excellent young man ! 

Portia. For the intent and purpose of the law 



io6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Hath full relation to the penalty 

Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy lock. 'Tis very true. O wise and upright judge ! 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks ! 

Portia. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 

Shylock. Ay, his breast : 

So says the bond : — doth it not, noble judge ? — 
Nearest his heart : those are the very words. 

Portia. It is so. Are there balance here to weigh 
The flesh? 

Shylock. I have them ready. 

Portia. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
To stop his wounds, lest he should bleed to death. 

Shylock. It is not nominated in the bond. 

Portia. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? 
'Twere good you do so much for charity. 

Shylock. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 

Portia. Come, merchant, have you any thing to say .? 

Antonio. But little : I am arm'd and well prepar'd. — 
Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom : it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
An age of poverty ; from which lingering penance 
Of such misery doth she cut me off. 
Commend me to your honourable wife : 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it presently with all my heart. 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 



T07 



Bassanio, Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as Hfe itself; 
But hfe itself, my wife, and all the world. 
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Portia. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 

Gratiano. I have a wifcj whom, I protest, I love : 
I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 

Nerissa. 'Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

Shylock [Aside]. These be the Christian husbands. I have 
a daughter ; 
Would any of the stock of Barrabas 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian ! — 
[To Portia.] We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence, 

Portia. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine : 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

Sky lock. Most rightful judge ! 

Portia. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shylock. Most learned judge 1 — A sentence ! Come, pre- 
pare ! 

Portia. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
The words expressly are, a pound of flesh : 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 
Unto the state of Venice. 

Gratiano. O upright judge! — Mark, Jew: — O learned 
judge ! 



loS THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Shy lock. Is that the law ? 

Portia. Thyself shalt see the act : 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 

Gra. O learned judge ! — Mark, Jew : — a learned judge 

Shylock. I take this offer, then j pay the bond thrice, 
And let the Christian go. 

Bassanio. Here is the money., 

Portia. Soft! 
The Jew shall have all justice ; — soft ! no haste : — 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gratiano. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 

Portia. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood ) nor cut thou less nor more 
But just a pound of flesh : if thou tak'st more. 
Or less, than a just pound, be it so much 
As makes it light or heavy, in the substance. 
Or the division of the twentieth part 
Of one poor scruple — nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, 
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gratia7io. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Portia. Why doth the Jew pause ? — Take thy forfeiture. 

Shylock. Give me my principal, and^et me go. 

Bassanio. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

Portia. He hath refus'd it in the open court : 
He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 

Gratiano. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel ! 
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

Shylock. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 

Portia. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture. 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shylock. Why, then the devil give him good of it ! 
I'll stay no longer question. 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 



109 



Portia. Tarry, Jew : 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
If it be prov'd against an alien, 
That by direct or indirect attempts 
He seek the life of any citizen. 
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
Shall seize one half his goods j the other half 
Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the Duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
In which predicament, I say, thou stand'st ; 
For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
That indirectly, and directly too, 
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formerly by me rehears'd. 
Down therefore, and beg mercy of the duke. 

Gratiano. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state. 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it. 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 
The other half comes to the general state. 
Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 

Portia. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 

Shylock. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
You take my house when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life 
When you do take the means whereby I live. 

Portia. What mercy can you render him, Antonio ? 

Gratiano. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake. 

Antonio. So please my lord the Duke and all the court 



no THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 

I am content, so he will let me have 

The other half in use, to render it, 

Upon his death, unto the gentleman 

That lately stole his daughter : 

Two things provided more, — that, for this favour. 

He presently become a Christian ; 

The other, that he do record a gift, 

Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 

Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 

Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

Portia. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 

Shylock. I am content. 

Portia. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shylock. I pray you, give me leave to' go from hence ; 
I am not well. Send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Gratiano. In christening thou shalt have two godfathers ; 
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more. 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. \Exit Shylock. 

Duke. Sir, I entreat you with me home to dinner. 

Portia. I humbly do desire your Grace of pardon : 
I must away this night toward Padua, 
And it is meet I presently set forth. 

Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman. 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

[Exeunt Duke and his train. 

Bassanio. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof. 
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous pains withal. 



ACT IV. SCENE I. m 

A?itoiiio. And stand indebted, over and above, 
In love and service to you evermore. 

Portia. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 
And I, delivering you, am satisfied. 
And therein do account myself well paid : 
My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
I pray you, know me when we meet again : 
I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 

Bassanio. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further ; 
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you. 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 

Portia. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
\To Antonio^ Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your 

sake ; 
\To Bassanio^ And, for your love, I'll take this ring from 

you. — 
Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 

Bassanio. This ring, good sir, — alas ! it is a trifle ; 
I will not shame myself to give you this. 

Portia. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
And now methinks I have a mind to it. 

BassaJiio. There's more depends on this than on the value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you. 
And find it out by proclamation : 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

Portia. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 

Bassanio. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
And when she put it on she made me vow 
That I should neither sell, nor give, nor lose it. 

Portia. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. 
An if your wife be not a mad woman, 



112 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

And know how well I have deserv'd the ring, 

She would not hold out enemy for ever, 

For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 

\Exeunt Portia a7id Nerissa. 

Antonio. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring : 
Let his deservings and my love withal 
Be valued against your wife's commandment. 

Bassaiiio. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst. 
Unto Antonio's house : away! make haste. \Exit Gratiano. 
Come, you and I will thither presently j 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. \Exeimt, 

Scene II. The same. A street. 

Enter Portia aiid Nerissa. 

Portia. Inquire the Jew's hpuse out, give him this deed, 
And let him sign it : we'll away to-night, 
And be a day before our husbands home. 
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gratiano. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en : . 
My Lord Bassanio, upon more advice. 
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
Your company at dinner. 

Portia. That cannot be : 

His ring I do accept most thankfully : 
And so, I pray you, tell him : furthermore, 
I pray you, shew my youth old Shylock's house. 

Gratiano. That will I do. 

Nerissa. Sir, I would speak .wdth yoi,. 

\Aside to Portia?)^ I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 



ACT IV. SCENE II. 



113 



Portia \Aside to Nerissd\. Thou mayst, I warrant. We 
shall have old swearing, 
That they did give the rings away to men ; 
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. 
Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I will tarry. 
Nerissa. Come, good sir, will you shew me to this house ? 

[Exeunt. 




H 




ACT V. 

Scene I. Belmont. Avenue to Portia! s house. 

Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 

Lorenzo. The moon shines bright. In such a night as this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
And they did make no noise — in such a night, 
Troilus methinks mounted the Trojan walls, 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that night. 

yessica. In such a night, 

Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew ; 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself. 
And ran dismay'd away. 

Lorenzo. In such a night, 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
Upon the wild sea banks, and waft her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

jfessica. In such a night, 

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
That did renew old ^son. 



ACT V. SCENE I. ne 

Lorenzo. In such a night, 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
As far as Belmont. 

yessica. In such a night, 

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well. 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith. 
And ne'er a true one. 

Lorenzo. In such a night, 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 

yessica. I would out-night you, did no body come ; 
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 

Enter Stephano. 

Lorenzo. Who comes so fast in silence of the night 1 

Stephano. A friend. 

Lorenzo. A friend ! what friend ? your name, I pray you, 
friend ? 

Stephano. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word, 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
For happy wedlock hours. 

Lorenzo. Who comes with her ? 

Stephano. None but a holy hermit, and her maid. 
I pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 

Lorenzo. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Launcelot. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho ! sola, so 
Lorenzo. Who calls? 



Ii6 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

Laimcelot. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo and Mistress* 
Lorenzo ? sola, sola ! 

Lorenzo. Leave hollaing, man : here. 

Launcelot. Sola ! where ? where ? 

Lorenzo. Here. 

Laimcelot. Tell him there's a post come from my master, 
with his horn full of good news : my master will be here ere 
morning. . \Exit. 

Lorenzo. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect their coming. 
And yet no matter : why should we go in t — 
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 
And bring your music forth into the air. — \^Exit Stephano. 
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of- sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, • 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins ; 
Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

Enter Musicians. 
Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : 
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear, 
And draw her home with music. [^Hfnsic. 

" '^4ca. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 
The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
ote a wild and wanton herd, 
ithful and unhandled colts, 
d bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 



ACT V. SCENE L 1 17 

' Which is the hot condition of their blood j 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
Or any air of music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 
By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods ^ 
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
But music for the time doth change his nature. 
The man that hath no music in himself. 
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds. 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night. 
And his affections dark as Erebus. 
Let no such man be trusted. — Mark'the music. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Portia. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

Nerissa. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. 

Portia. So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
A substitute shines brightly as a king, 
Until a king be by ; and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music ! hark ! 

Nerissa. It is your music, madam, of the house. 

Portia. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 

Nerissa. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 

Portia: The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark 
When neither is attended ; and I think 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day. 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 



Ii8 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 

How many things by season season'd are 

To their right praise and true perfection ! 

Peace, ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 

And would not be awak'd. \Mtisic ceases. 

Lorenzo. That is the voice, 

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 

Portia. He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 
By the bad voice. 

Lorenzo. Dear lady, welcome home. 

Portia. We have been praying for our husbands' welfare, 
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
Are they return'd ? 

Lorenzo. Madam, they are not yet ; 

But there is come a messenger before. 
To signify their coming. 

Portia. Go in, Nerissa ; 

Give order to my servants that they take 
No note at all of our being absent hence ; 
Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. \A tucket sounds. 

Lorenzo. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet. 
We are no tell-tales, madam ; fear you not. 

Portia. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; 
It looks a little paler : 'tis a day. 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their 

followers. 

Bassanio. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
If you would walk in absence of the sun. 

Portia. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 
And never be Bassanio so for me : 
But God sort all ! You are welcome home, my lord. 

Bassanio. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my 
friend. 



ACT V. SCENE I. uc, 

This is the man ; this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Portia. You should in all sense be much bound to him ; 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Antonio. No more than I am well acquitted of. 

Portia. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
It must appear in other ways than words. 
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 

Gratiano [To JVerissa]. By yonder moon I swear you do 
me wrong ; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 

Portia. A quarrel, ho, already ! what's the matter ? 

Gratiano. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give me, whose poesy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife, ' Love me, and leave me not.' 

JVerissa. What talk yoji of the poesy, or the value ? 
You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
That you would wear it till the hour of death, 
And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement oaths. 
You should have been respective and have kept it. 
Gave it a judge's clerk ! no, God's my judge. 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. 

Gratiafio. He will, an if he live to be a man. 

Nerissa. Ay, if a woman live to be a man, 

Gratiano. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed boy. 
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

Portia. You were to blame, I must be plain with you. 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger. 
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 



I20 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
Never to part with it j and here he stands : 
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave it. 
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 

Bassanio [Aside]. Why, I were best to cut my left hand off, 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 

Gratiano. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that begg'd it, and indeed 
Deserv'd it too : and then the boy, his clerk, 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine ; 
And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

Portia. What ring gave you, my lord t 

Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd,of me. 

Bassanio. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. 

Portia. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
Until I see the ring. 

Nerissa. Nor I in yours, 

Till I again see mine. 

Bassanio. Sweet Portia, 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring, 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring. 
And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
When nought would be accepted but the ring, 
You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 

Portia. If you had known the viortue of the ring, 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring. 
Or your own honour to contain the ring, 



ACT V. SCENE I. I2i 

You would not then have parted with the ring. 
What man is there so much unreasonable, 
If you had pleas'd to have defended it 
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. 

Bassanio. No, by my honour, madam, by my soul, 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor. 
Which did refuse three thousand ducats of me, 
And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him. 
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away, 
Even he that had held up the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? 
I was enforc'd to send it after him ; 
I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
My honour would not let ingratitude 
So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 
And, by these blessed candles of the night. 
Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

Portia. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house. 
Since he hath got the jewel that I loved. 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you ; 
I'll not deny him any thing I have. 

Antonio. I am th' unhappy subject of these quarrels. 

Portia. Sir, grieve not you; you are welcome notwith- 
standing. 

Bassanio. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong \ 
And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
I swear to thee, even by, thine own fair eyes. 
Wherein I see myself — 

Portia. Mark you but that ! 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself; 



122 THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 

In each eye, one : — swear by your double self, 
And there's an oath of credit. 

Bassanio. Nay, but hear me : 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
I never more will break an oath with thee. 

Antonio. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 
Had quite miscarried ; I dare be bound again, 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Portia. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this. 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 

Antonio. Here, Lord Bassanio : swear to keep this ring. 

Bassanio. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 

Portia. You are all amaz'd : 
Here is a letter : read it at your leisure ; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario. 
There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 
Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 
Shall witness I set forth as soon as you. 
And even but now return'd : I have not yet 
Enter'd my house. — Antonio, you are welcome j 
And I have better news in store for you 
/Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
^'here you shall find, three of your argosies 
Are richly come to harbour suddenly. 
You shall not know by what strange accident 
I chanced on this letter. 

Antonio. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; 
For here I read for certain that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 

Portia. How now, Lorenzo ? 

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 

Nerissa. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. — 
There do I give to you and Jessica, 



ACT V. SCENE I. 



123 



From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 

Lorenzo. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 

Fortia. It is almost morning. 

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 
And charge us there upon inter'gatories. 
And we will answer all things faithfully. \Exeunt. 




NOTES 



ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE NOTES. 

Abbott (or Gr.), Abbott's Shakesperian Grammar. 
Adv. of L., V>2iCox^^ Advancem.ent of Learning. 

A. S., Anglo-Saxon. 

B. and F., Beaumont and Fletcher. 
Ben J., Ben Jonson. 

C. Craik's English of Shakespeare (Rolfe's edition). 
Cf. {confer), compare. 

Com., Milton's Comus. 

Conf. Am., Gower's Confessio A mantis. 

C. P. ed., the " Clarendon Press" edition of The Merchant of Venice. 

D., Dyce. 

F., Fowler's English Language (8vo edition). 

F. Q., Spenser's Faerie Queene. 

Foil., following. 

Fr., French. s 

H., Hudson. 

H.'s quarto, Heyes's quarto edition of the Play. 

Id. {idetn), the same. 

II Pens., Milton's // Penseroso. 

K., Knight. 

Met., Ovid's Metamorphoses. 

N. F., Norman-French. 

P. L., Milton's Paradise Lost. 

Prol., Prologue. 

Robt. of Glou., Robert of Gloucester. 

R.'s quarto, Roberts's quarto edition of the Play. - 

S., Shakespeare. 

S. A., Milton's Samsoti Agonistes. 

Shep. Cal., Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar. 

Sr., Singer. 

St.; Staunton. 

Var. ed.,the Variorum edition of Shakespeare (1821). 

W.,White. 

Wb., Webster's Dictionary (revised quarto edition of 1864). 

Wore, Worcester's Dictionary (quarto edition). 

The abbreviations of the names of Shakespeare's Plays will be readily understood ; as 
T. N. for Twelfth Night, Cor. for Coriolanus, 3 Hen. VI. for The Third Part of King 
Henry the Sixth, etc. P. P. refers to l^he Passionate Pilgrim, and V. and A. to Vejiies 
and Adonis. 




AN ARGOSY. 



NOTES 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — In the first folio, the play is divided into acts, but not into 
scenes, and there is no list oi dramatis personce. 

In sooth. In truth. A. S. soth (truth, true, truly), as m. forsooth, sooth- 
sayer (teller oi hidden truth). Gower alludes to the origin of the latter 
word {Conf. Am. i.) : — 

" That for he wiste he saide soth 
A soth-saier he was for ever." 

Came by it. This is a familiar colloquial idiom in this country, but ap- 
parently not in England, since the editors there take the trouble to ex- 
plain it. 

On the ocean. Ocean is here probably a trisyllable. See C. pp. 247-254 ; 
and compare Milton {Hymn onNativ.) : — 

"Whispering new joys to the mild ocean." 

Argosies. Merchant vessels (sometimes war vessels) of great size for 
that day, though not exceeding two hundred tons. The name is from the 
classical Argo, through the low Latin argis. 

Pageants. The word is used as a verb (= represents) in T. and C. i. 3 : 
" he pageants us." 

Do overpeer. This use of the auxiliary was common in Shakespeare's 
time, though obsolescent. See C. p. 142. Cf. 3 Heft. VI. v. 2 : " Whose 
top-branch overpeered Jove's spreading tree." See also Cor'\\. 3. 



128 NOTES. 

Curtsy. The same word as courtesy. C. p. 273. 

Had I such venttire forth. Venture is still used in this commercial sense. 
/^<7r/>^= abroad. 

Still pbtcking. Still= ever, constantly. Cf. " still-waking sleep," R. and 
y. i. I ; "still-vexed Bermoothes," 7>^z/. i. 2 ; "still -closing waters," 7>w/. 
iii. 3 ; etc. It is even used as an adjective in the sense of constant, as in 
T.A. iii. 2 : "And by still practice learn to know the meaning." 

My wealthy Andrew. My richly freighted ship. Some suppose the 
name to be taken from that of the famous Genoese admiral, Andrea Doria, 
who died 1560 ; but this is hardly probable. 

Docked. The old copies have docks. Rowe made the change. 

Vailing. Lowering. Cf. "Vail your regard" (=let fall your look), M. 
for M.Y.i; and " did vail their crowns," Ter. ii. 2. The word is con- 
tracted from avail or avale, the French avaler (from Latin ad vallem). 
Spenser uses avale, both with an object (" Phoebus gan avale his weary 
wain") and without one ("they . . . from their sweaty coursers did avale ;" 
i. e. dismount). * 

But even now worth this. If this be the correct reading, the force of 
this (=all this, so much) was probably meant to be expressed by a ges- 
ture. 

Bechanc''d. On the prefix be- see C. pp. 307-312. 

Is sad to think upon. From thinking upon. 

Bottom. This word, like venttire, is still used in commerce in the same 
sense as here. Cf J^. John, ii. i ("the English bottoms"), and T.IV.v.i 
(" the most noble bottom of our fleet"). 

'' Two-headed Janus. The allusion is probably to those ancient bifrontine 
images in which a grave face was associated with a laughing one. 

Peep through their eyes. That is, eyes half shut with laughter. 

Other ofszich vinegar aspect. Other is often plural in S. and other writ- 
ers of the time. Cf Job, xxiv. 24 ; Luke, xxiii. 32 ; Fhil. ii. 3, iv. 3. C. p. 
180, Aspect is always accented on the last syllable in S. and other poets 
of the time. Cf Spenser {F. Q. i. 12, 23) : " Most ugly shapes, and horri- 
ble aspects ;" Milton {P. L. iii. 266) : " His words here ended, but his 
meek aspect ;" etc. This is but one illustration out of many that show 
the tendency of the accent in English to fall back toward the beginning 
of the word. Thus we have character'' d in S. {Two Gent. ofV. ii. 7, etc.) 
and Milton {Comus, 530) : contrary in S. {R. and J. i. 5 ; Ham. iii. 2, etc.) 
and Spenser {F. Q. iii. i, 47, iii. 2, 40, etc.) ; revenue in S. [Ham. iii. 2, Temp. 
i, 2, etc.) ; solemnized in S. (Z. L. L. ii. i) and Spenser [F. Q. v, 2, 3) ; etc. 

Nestor. The oldest of the Greek heroes in the Iliad, and famed for his 
wisdom and gravity. See 7^ ajid C i. 3, etc. 

Prevented. In its primitive sense of anticipated. Cf Ham. ii. I ; also 
Ps. cxix. 147, and i Thess. iv. 15. 

Exceeding strange. S., like other writers of his time, often uses exceed- 
ing as an adverb. He uses exceedingly only five times — in four of which 
it modifies the adverb well ("exceedingly well met," L. L. L. iii. i, etc.), 
while in the ^i\h.\Ham. v. 2) it modifies an adjective understood. Cf Gen,. 
XV. I ; 2 ScLvi. viii. 8, etc. — " Exceeding strange"=our expression, " very 
. much of a stranger." 



ACT I. SCENE /. 



129 



Respect upon the world. Regard for the world See C. p. 337. The use 
of tipon is exceptional, but not unlike think upon. See note on Upon what 
sickness ? in C. p. 347. 

A stage. Cf. the famous passage, "All the world's a stage," ^j You Like 
It, ii. 7. 

Let me play the fool. Let the part assigned to me be that of the fool ; 
who was always one of the characters in the old comedies. 

Thati my heart cool, etc. There may be an allusion here to the old be- 
lief that every sigh or groan robbed the heart of a drop of blood. Cf. M. 
N. D. iii. 2 : " Sighs of love that costs the fresh blood dear." So, in 2 
He7i. VI. iii. 2, we have "blood-consuming" and "blood-drinking sighs," 
and in 3 Hen. VI. iv. 4, " blood- sucking sighs." 

Creep into the jaundice. In the only other passage in which S. mentions 
the jaundice, the cause of the disease is, as here, a mental one. See T. 
and C i. 3. 

Do cream and mantle. C£ Lear, iii. 4, where Edgar speaks of " the 
green mantle of the standing pool." 

And do a wilful stillness entertain. And who do maintain an obstinate 
silence. This kind of ellipsis is not uncommon in other writers of the 
time. Cf. Bacon {Adv. ofL.) : " His eye and tooth they lent to Perseus ; 
and so . . . (he) hastens towards Medusa ;" and Spenser [F. Q.\.i, 19) :— 

" His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine, 
And knitting all his force (he) got one hand free." 

With pu7pose to be dressed. Cf "with purpose presently to leave," etc., 
K. John, V. 7, and " with purpose to relieve," i Hen. VI. i. i. 
Opinion ofwisdojn. Reputation for wisdom. 
Profound cojiceit. Deep thought. See C. p. 202. 
As who shotdd say. Like one who should say. Cf. T. of S. iv. 3 : — 

"As who should say, If I should sleep or eat, 
'Twere deadly sickness, or else present death." 

That therefore only are reputed wise, etc. That are reputed wise only on 
this account, that they say nothing. For similar transposition of a clause 
with therefore, see Isa. v. 13, and John viii. 47. Pope calls silence 

"Thou vamisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise." 

When, I am very sure, etc. Rowe changed wheji to zvho, and others 
have suggested "'twould for wotdd ; but it is probable that we have here an 
ellipsis of the nominative, as in the case mentioned a few lines above. 
Would cdmost damn, etc., means that the hearers could hardly help calling 
them fools, and thus exposing themselves to the judgment threatened in 
Scripture {Matt. v. 22). 

/'// tell thee m.ore. The old copies have more here, but m-oe in " two 
years more," just below, and in many other passages. The archaic form 
should be retained where the rhyme requires it, as in Balthazar's Song in 
Much Ado, ii. 3 : — 

" Sing no more ditties, sing no moe." 

Craik (p. 213) would retain it in all cases. 

Fool gudgeon. Old Izaak Walton says of the gudgeon ; " It is an excel- 

I 



X30 NOTES. 

lent fish to enter (initiate) a young angler, being easy to be taken''' On the 
adjective use oifool, of. " fool multitude" below (ii. 9). _ 

For this gear. For this purpose, or matter ; an expression sometimes 
used, as here, without very definite meaning. 

You shall seek all day. Shall and should are ofi:en used in all three per- 
sons, by the Elizabethan writers, to denote mere futurity. See C. pp. 217- 
219, 244, and 295. 

By something shcnvijig. This adverbial use of j^/^/^//zm^ (=somewhat), 
which occurs twice in this speech, is common in S. 

More swelling port. Grander state. Cf. "greatest port," iii. 2, and 
" keep house, and port, and servants," T.ofS.\.\. 

Would grant continuance. That is, continuance of. Such ellipsis is 
common in the Elizabethan writers. Cf. " from that it is disposed" (to), 
y. C. i. 3, and see note on that passage, C. p. 183. 

Make moan to be abridged. " Complain that I am curtailed." Cf. " made 
moan to me," iii. 3. See also Two Gent, of V. ii. 3. 

Gaged. Pledged. Cf. Ham. i. i : "a moiety competent was gaged by 
our king." 

As you yourself still do. Another example of j////=ever. 

Within the eye of honour. Within the range of what can be viewed (or 
regarded) as honourable. 

Occasions. Needs. The word is here a quadrisyllable. See note on 
On the ocean. 

The self-same flight. Flighi-v^-3& a technical term to denote the range of 
an arrow. C. P. ed. quotes Ascham's Toxophilus : " You must have divers 
shafts of one flight, feathered with divers wings, for divers winds." 

More advised. More careful. See Rich. II. i. 3 : " advised purpose," i. e. 
deliberate purpose. Cf. the modern use of unad7}ised. 

To find the other forth. To find the other out. Cf. " to find his fellow 
forth," C. of E. i. 2, and " inquire you forth," Two Gent, of V. ii. 4. 

Childhood proof. Experiment of my childhood. 

Like a %vil fid youth. Elliptical for " like what will happen with a wilful 
(i. e. wilful in his prodigality) youth." 

That self way. That same way. Cf " this self place," 3 Hen. VI. iii. I ; 
" that self mould," i?zr/?. //. i. 2, etc. This use of self\'s, found before Chau- 
cer ("self Xond,,''' Robt. ofi Glouc, A.D. 1298) ; and even so late a writer as 
Dryden has " at that self moment." 

Circiimstajice. Circumlocution ; as \i\Hant. i. 5, C. ofi E. v. i,Two G. ofi 
V. iii. 2, etc. 

In making question, etc. "In doubting my readiness to do my utmost 
in your service" (C. P. ed.). 

Prest. Ready ; the old French prest (now /reV), Italian and Spanish 
presto, from Latin ^.^x.prcssto, through the late 'L,2i\i\\ pra:st2is. 

Richly left. Cf. "those rich-left heirs," Cyjn. iv. 2. 

So7netimes. In time past, formerly. Both sometimes and sometime are 
found in S. and the Bible in this sense. Cf. " thy sometimes brother's 
wife," Rich. II. i. 2, and " our sometime sister," Ham. i. 2"; Eph. ii. 13, and 
Col. i. 21, iii. 7. So we have beside and besides, tozvard and towards^ etc. 

Nothing 2i7tdervahted. Nowise inferior. Undervahied occnrs again, ii. 7. 



ACT L SC^NE IL 131 

Briittis' Portia. See Julhis Ccesar, in which this " woman well reputed, 
Cato's daughter," is a prominent character. 

Like a golden fleece, etc. The Argonautic expedition is alluded to again, 
iii. 2 : "We are the Jasons, we have won the fleece." 

/ have a mind presages. That is, which presages. This omission of the 
relative was very common in S.'s time. ^i. M. for M. ii. 2 : "I have a 
brother is condemned to die ;" W.T.v.i : " You are one of those would 
have him marry." In modern usage, the objective is sometimes omitted, 
but the nominative very rarely. 

Thrift. Success. Cf. " well-won thrift" and " thrift is blessing," i. 3. 
See also Hatn. iii. 2 and W. T i. 2. 

Commodity. Property. In iii. 3, the word is used in the obsolete sense 
oi advantage ox gain. Cf. W. T. iii. 2 : "To me can life be no commodity;" 
Lear, iv. I : "our mere defects Prove our commodities," etc. 

Presently. Immediately. Cf Temp. iv. i : '■^ Ariel. Presently ? Pros. Ay, 
with a twink ;" and again, v. I : '■'■Pros. And presently, I prithee. Ariel. I 
drink the air before me, and return Or ere your pulse beat twice ;" Two 
G.ofV. ii. 7 : " Come, answer not, but to it presently !" See also i Sam. 
ii. 16, 'AxvdLMatt. xxvi. 53. 

To have it of my trust, etc. Of obtaining it either on my credit as a mer- 
chant, or as a personal favour. 

Note the rhyme in the last couplet, as often at the close of a scene. 

Scene II. — Aweary. See C. p. 339. 

Lt is na small happiness. So in the folios. Both quartos have " no 
mean happiness." 

Bnt this reasoning is not in the fashion. The first folio has, "But this 
reason is not in fashion ;" and below, " It is not hard" for " Is it not hard." 

Nor refuse none. • For the double negative cf. K. John, v. 7 : " This En- 
gland never did, nor never shall;" C. of E. iv. 2 : "First he denied you 
had in him no right ;" and P.P.g: '■'Forbade the boy he should not pass 
those grounds." 

But one who you shall rightly lave. Who is the object, not the subject, 
of love, as appears from the question which follows : What affection have 
you for any of the suitors that are already come ? Who for zuhom is not 
unusual in the writers of the time. In ii. 6, we have " Who love I." 

Are already come. On are come {=^have come\ see C. p. 304. 

Level at. Aim at, guess. Cf. 2 LIe7t. VI. iii. 2 : " the foeman may with 
as great aim level at the edge of a penknife." The noun is used in the 
same way, as in Hen. VIII. i. 2 : "I stood i' the level Of a full-charged 
confederacy." 

He makes it a great appropriation, etc. That is, he takes great credit to 
himself for it. S. nowhere else uses either appropriation or app7'opriate. 

Then is there the county Palatine. The folio has it, " Than is there the 
Countie Palentine." Thaji and then are different forms of the same word, 
often used interchangeably by old writers. C. pp. 27, 171. For county— 
count, see R. and J. (where it occurs nine times), AlVs Well, iii. 7, etc. 

Att you will not. The folio has "And you." And or an for //"is very 
common in old writers, as well as aitd if ox an if. See C. p. 182. 



132 A^TES. 

The weeping philosopher. Heracleitus, of Ephesus, who, from his melan- 
choly disposition, is represented in various old traditions as the contrast 
to Democritus ("the laughing philosopher"), weeping over the frailties 
and foUies at which the latter laughed. 

I had rather to be married. Had rather and had better are good English, 
though many writers of grammars tell us that we should say woidd rather, 
etc., instead. See C. pp. 157, 320. In Rich. II. iii. 3, we find the imper- 
sonal form, "me rather had." Rather \s the comparative oirath (see Mil- 
ton, Lycidas : " the rath primrose"), and is often found in the old writers 
in the sense of earlier, sooner. Thus Spenser, Shep. Cal. Feb., speaks of 
" the rather lambes." For other examples, see C. p. 157. The to is omit- 
ted by the modern editors, but it is found in the folio. For the history 
of to with the infinitive, and examples of its use by S. where it would now 
be omitted, and its omission where it would now be used, see C. pp. 131- 
133. 

How say yoii by, etc. By here, as not unfrequently— (X^^fw^* or concerning. 
Cf. ii. 9 : " may be meant by the fool multitude." So Latimer {Serm.) : 
" How think you by the ceremonies," etc. So in i Cor. iv. 4, " I know 
nothing by myself," i. e. am conscious of nothing (of guilt) concerning (or 
against) myself. — For "Monsieur le Bon" the foho has "Mounsier Le 
Bonne.'''' 

Throstle. Pope's emendation for the "trassel" of the first folio. The 
other folios have " tarssell" or " tassell." 

A capering. See C. p. 176. 

A p7'oper man^s picture. K proper man is a man " as he should be" (see 
C. p. 139) ; often, -3^ handsome man. S. uses properer {R. and y. ii. 4) and 
properest {Much Ado, v. i) in the same sense. Improper he uses but once 
{Lear, v. 3). 

Stcited. Dressed. Cf. "richly suited," Airs Well,.\. i, and Milton's 
" civil-suited morn" {II Fens.). 

Doublet. " The doublet (so called from being originally lined or wad- 
ded for defense) was a close-fitting coat, with skirts reaching a little below 
the girdle." The " round hose''' were coverings for the legs, not the feet — 
" trowsers or breeches, reaching to the knee." The phrase " doublet and 
hose," as equivalent to "coat and breeches," occurs often in S. See 
Merry Wives, iii. 3, Much Ado, v. i, As You Like, iii. 2, etc. ^'■French hose" 
are referred to in Macb. ii. 3, and Hen. V. iii. 7. Bonnet, originally the name 
of a stuff, came to be applied to the man's cap made of it, as it still is in 
Scottish. 

The Scottish lord. The Scottish of the quartos, printed before the acces- 
sion of James I., was changed to other in the folio of 1623, to avoid giving 
offense to that monarch. Warburton sees in this passage an allusion to 
the " constant promises of assistance that the French gave the Scots in 
their quarrels with the English." 

Sealed under for another. Became surety for another box on the ear. 

Vilely. Vildly or vildely in old editions, C. p. 345. 

You should refuse. See C. pp. 217-219. 

Some other sort than your father'' s imposition. Sort may be =/!?/, as W. 
suggests. Cf. " draw the sort," T. and C. i. 3. Imposition^^zondii'iiovL im- 



ACT I. SCENE III. 



133 



posed. In iii. 4 the word is used again in this literal sense of something 
" laid upon" one as a burden or duty. 

Sibylla. Here used as a proper name, like " Sibyl" in T. of S. i. 2. So 
Bacon, in Colors of Good and Evil, 10, speaks of ",5)/fe7/a, when she brought 
her three books," and in Adv. ofL. ii. 23, 33, oi'-'-Sybillaes books." But hi 
Othello, iii. 4, we have "A sibyl," and in i Hen. VI. i. 2, " nine sibyls." The 
reference here is to the Cumaean sibyl, who obtained from Apollo a prom- 
ise that her years sTiould be as many as the grains of sand she was hold- 
ing iu her hand. The story is told by Ovid, Met. xv. 

This parcel of wooers. Cf. "this youthful parcel of noble bachelors," 
AlPs Well, ii. 3. 

I wish them a fair departure. The quartos read, "I pray God grant 
them," etc. It has been supposed that the latter was the original read- 
ing, and that it was changed in the folio on account of the act of Parlia- 
ment, in the time of James I., against the use of the name of God on the 
stage. But the folio has the word God in more than a dozen places in the 
play, and Portia herself (though W. thinks it would not " suit her lips" in 
this case) has used it twice already in this very .scene. In ii. 2, Launcelot 
uses it often and profanely. 

With so good heart as, etc. *' We now seldom use so . . . as, preferring 
as . . . as, except where so requires special emphasis. The Elizabethans 
used the unemphatic so with as'^ [Abbott]. 

Condition. Nature, disposition. Cf. Othello, ii. i : "she is full of most 
blessed condition;" and i^zV/z. ///. iv. 4 : "your condition. That cannot 
brook the accent of reproof " Cf. also " best conditioned," iii. 2. 

Whiles. The genitive singular of while (which was originally a noun) 
used as an adverb. It occurs in Matt. v. 25. Needs in " must needs" is 
another case of the kind. See C. p. 179. 

Scene III. — Ducats. The value of the Venetian silver ducat was about 
that of the American dollar. 

For the which. This archaism is occasionally found in S., as in the 
Bible (e. g. Gen. i. 29). The who is never found ; perhaps, as Abbott sug- 
gests, because which is considered an adjective and indefinite, while who 
is not. So in French we have lequel, but not le qui. 

May you stead me ? " Can you assist me ?" May originally expressed 
ability, as the noun might still does. Can, on the other hand (see C. p. 
339)5 signified " to know or have skill." We have both words in their old 
sense in Chaucer's line (C. T. 2314), "Now helpe me, lady, sith ye may 
and can." This archaic can is found inHain. iv. 7 : "they can well on 
horseback," i. e. are well skilled in riding. On stead, cf M. for M. i. 4: 
" Can you so stead me. As bring me to the sight of Isabella ?" and All's 
Well, V. 3 : "to reave her Of what should stead her most." 

Pleasure me. So in M.W.i.i : " What I do is to pleasure you, coz." 
See also Alzich Ado, v. i, and 3 Hen. VI iii. 2. On " the remarkable power 
which our language possesses of turning almost any noun, upon occasion, 
into a verb," see C. p. 237. 

A good man. That is, " good" in the commercial sense — " having pecu- 
niary ability; of unimpaired credit" [Wb.]. 



134 NOTES. 

In supposition. Doubtful, risked at sea. 

Tripolis. The old name of Tripoli., a sea-port of Syria, formerly of great 
commercial importance. 

Rialto. The chief of the islands on which Venice is built was called 
Isola di Rialto {rivo alto), the Island of the Deep Stream. The name Ri- 
alto came also to be applied to the Exchange, which was on that island. 
It is the Exchange which is here meant — " a most stately building .... 
where the Venetian gentlemen and the merchants doe meete twice a day, 
betwixt eleven and twelve of the clocke in the morning, and betwixt five 
and sixe of the clocke in the afternoon" {Coryafs Crudities., A.D. 1611). 
The bridge known as the Rialto (Ponte di Rialto) was first built in 1591, 
but the present structure is more recent. 

Squandered. Scattered. So in HowelVs Letters (A.D. 1650) we have 
"islands that lie squandered in the vast ocean." Even Dryden {Annus 
Mirab.) has " They drive, they squander the huge Belgian fleet." S. uses 
the word only here and in As You Like, ii. 7 : " the squandering glances 
of the fool ;" i. e, his " random shots," as Johnson explains it. 

There be land-rats. In old English, besides the present tense am, etc. 
there was also this form be, from the Anglo-Saxon beon. The 2d pers' 
sing, was beest. See C. p. 342. The ist and 3d pers. plu. be is often found 
in S. and the Bible. 

If it please yoic. This impersonal form (cf. the French s'il vous plait), 
after being contracted into if you please, has come to be considered as per^ 
sonal, and we now say if I please, if he pleases, etc. The verb thus gets a 
new meaning, to please becoming;:^^'^ be pleased. 

And so following. And so forth. S. uses the phrase nowhere else. 

For he is a Christian. We should now S2iy,for being a Christian. Whei, 
thus used,y^r is often followed by that, as in the next line. Of course we 
could now say, " I hate him, for he is a Christian," but the meaning would 
be different. In this case, as in the other, ihtfor is equivalent to because, 
but it connects more loosely, as the comma indicates. The difference in 
meaning is perhaps better illustrated by a case like the following {M.for 
M. ii. i) :— 

"You may not so extenuate his offence. 
For I have had such faults ;" 

i. e. the fact that I have been guilty is no excuse for him. The modern 
reading would make nonsense of it. 

Usance. Interest. Thomas, in his Historye of Italy e (A.D. 1561), says : 
" It is almoste incredyble what gaine the Venetians receiue by the vsury 
of the Jewes, both pryuately and in common. For in euerye citee the 
Jewes icepe open shops of vsurie, taking gaiges of ordinarie for xv. in the 
hundred by the yere : and if at the yeres ende, the gaige be not redemed, 
it is forfeite, or at the least dooen away to a great disaduantage : by rea- 
son whereof the Jewes are out of measure wealthie in those parties." 

Upon the hip. To " catch upon the hip" was a phrase used by wrestlers. 
Hudson makes it refer to hunting, " because, when the animal pursued is 
seized upon the hip, it is finally disabled from flight." The expression 
occurs again in iv. i, and also in Othello, ii. I. 

Which he calls interest. Usance, usury, and interest were equivalent 



ACT I. SCENE III. 



135 



terms in S.'s day. It was disreputable to take interest at all. It was 
considered "against nature for money to beget money." See Bacon's 
Essay on Usurie. 

Debating of my present store. Of is often used by the Elizabethan writ- 
ers in the sense of abotit or concernmg. Cf. Te7np. ii. i : " You make me 
study of it ;" etc. 

Rest yon fair. " Heaven grant you fair fortune !" Cf. " Rest you mer- 
ry !" {/?. and y. i. 2) and " God rest you merry !" {As Yon Like, v. i.) 

Excess. More than the sum lent or borrowed ; interest. 

Ripe wants. Wants that admit of no delay, like ripe fruit that must be 
gathered at once. 

Possessed. Informed. Cf. iv. i : "I have possess'd your grace of what 
I purpose ;" Cor. ii. i : " Is the senate possessed of this ?" etc. 

How much you would. The folio misprints '■'■ he would." Would is 
often used absolutely, as here, for wish or require. 

Methought. This thought is from the A. S. verb thincan, to seem, and 
not from thencan, to think. It is used impersonally, the me being a dative. 
Methought— \t seemed to me. In Chaucer we find him thoughte, hem (them) 
thoughte, Mr (her) thoughte, etc. 

When yacob, etc. See Gen. xxvii. and xxx. 

Were compromised. Had mutually agreed. 

Eanlings. Eambs just brought forth ; from A. S. eanian, to bring forth 
Yeanling is another form of the same word. Cf. ear^i and yearn (C. p. 
258). 

Pied. Spotted. We have " daisies pied" in L. L. L. v. 2 (and in Mil- 
ton's L* Allegro) ; and in Temp. iii. 2, Caliban calls Trinculo a " pied ninny," 
from the parti-colored coat which he wore as jester. 

PilVd me. Peeled. Cf the Bible narrative {Gen. xxx. 37, 38). The 7ne 
is expletive, as often. See the dialogue between Petruchio and Grumio 
in T of S. i. 2 (first part of scene), and C. p. 181. 

Fall. This transitive use of the verb is now obsolete. 

Was this inserted, etc. Was this inserted in Scripture to justify usury ? 

The devil can cite Scripture. See Matt. iv. 4, 6. 

Producing holy luitness. Adducing sacred authority. 

Beholding. Often used by S., Bacon, and other writers of the time, in- 
stead oi beholden, \N\i\Q)i\, as Craik has shown (pp. 307-311), is probably a 
corrupted form oi gehealden, the perfect participle of A. S. healdan, to hold, 
whence its meaning oiheld, bound, obliged. 

Ma7iy a time and oft. An old phrase, still familiar,=many and mcny a 
time, i. e. many times, and yet again many more times. C. p. 140. 

Moneys. Persistently spelled monies by Hudson, and often so printed. 
The simple rule, that -y is changed to -ies in plurals only when a cojisonant 
precedes the y, ought not to be forgotten. 

Misbeliever. Strictly, one who believes wrongly, as unbeliever is one who 
does not believe, or an infidel. 

Spet. An obsolete spelling of spit, used occasionally by S., as it is by 
Milton in the one instance {Cojnus, 132) in which he employs the word. 

Gaberdine. A long coarse frock. See Temp. ii. 2. The garment and 
the name are still used by the peasantry in some parts of England. 



136 NOTES. 

Go to, A phrase of exhortation or encouragement, sometimes used 
scornfully. See J. C. iv. 3 (C. p. 336) ; also Gen. xi. 4, etc. 

A breed of barren metal. The quartos have "a breed y^r." Breed is 
money bred from the principal. Shyiock had used the same metaphor 
for interest. 

Who if he break. The " relative with a supplementary pronoun" (Ab- 
bott, p. 169) often occurs in the writers of the time. Cf. V. and A. : — 

"Who, when he lived, his breath and beauty set 
Gloss on the rose, smell on the violet." 

" If he break,''"' i. e. " break his day," a current expression =:fail to fulfill his 
engagement. Shyiock uses the phrase below. 

I would be friends with you. A "grammatical impropriety," but even 
now a familiar idiom. See C. p. 296. 

Doit. A small Dutch coin, worth about a quarter of a cent. QLT.of 
A.'\.i: " Which will not cost a man a doit," and Cor. v. 4 : " I'd not have 
given a doit." 

Your si7igle bond. Your individual bond, without sureties. 

In a vierry sport. In the old ballad of Gernutus, the Jew says : — 

" But we will haue a merry iest, 

for to be talked long : 
You shall make me a Band (quoth he) 

that shall be large and strong. 
And this shall be the forfeyture, 

of your owne Flesh a pound : 
If you agree, make you the Band, 

and here is a hundred Crownes." 

Let the forfeit, etc. Let the forfeit named as an equivalent be a pound 
of your flesh. 

Pleaseth me. That is, it pleaseth me. See note on If it please you, 
above. In C. ofE. iv. i, we have, " Pleaseth you walk with me," etc. ; and 
in 3 Hen. VI. ii. 6, " Warwick . . . shall do and undo, as him pleaseth best." 

Dwell. Continue, remain. 

Dealings teaches them suspect. There were three forms of the plural in 
early English — the Northern in es, the Midland in en, the Southern in eth. 
The first two are found in Elizabethan authors. Sometimes they are 
used for the sake of the rhyme ; sometimes for reasons that are not evi- 
dent. Teaches is probably one of these old plurals. See Abbott, p. 235. 
On the omission of the to of the infinitive, see C. pp. 131-133. 

Break his day. See on If he break above, and cf. Hey wood's Fair Maid 
of the Exchange, ii. 2 : — 

" If you do break your day, assure yourself 
That I will take the forfeit of your bond." 

Muttons, beefs. These Norman-French words are here used in their 
original sense. The plural beeves is still used for the living animals, and 
the singular form beeve is occasionally met with. Wb. quotes an instance 
from Irving. On the relation of the A. S. ox, sheep, etc., to these N. F. 
words, see F. §§ 73, 74. 

If he will take it, so. That is, so be it, or something of the kind. So was 
often thus used as a particle of assent or affirmation. Cf. i Hen. IV. v. 4 : 
" If your father will do me any honour, so." See C. p. 204. 



ACT II. SCENE I 



137 



Fearful guard of an unthrifty knave. Fearfzil=\.o be feared or distrust- 
ed ; untrustworthy. Knave, which meant originally only a boy, and now 
means only a rogue, was in current use in S.'s time with either significa- 
tion. See C. p. 355. 

ACT II. 

Scene I. — The stage direction in the first folio is : Enter Morochus a 
tawnie Moore all in white, a7td three or foure followers accordingly, with 
Portia, Nerrissa, and their traine. Flo. Cornets. 

Mislike. S. generally uses dislike, but mislike in 2 Hen. VI. \, I, and A. 
and C. iii. 1 1 (13 in Globe ed.) ; also once as a noun, in 3 Hen. VI. iv. i. 

Complexion. A quadrisyllable here. See note on ocean, i. i. 

Let us make incision, etc. Red blood was a traditionary sign of courage. 
Macbeth (v. 3) calls one of his frightened soldiers a "lily-livered boy," and 
Falstaff (2 Hen. IV. iv. 3) speaks Of the " liver white and pale" as a badge 
of cowardice. Below (iii. 2) Bassanio talks of cowards who " have livers 
white as milk." 

Reddest. The use of the superlative in a comparison of two objects, 
though condemned by most of the modern gramimars, is good old English. 

Aspect hath fear' d. On the accent oi aspect, see above, i. i. Fear''d=^ 
caused to fear, terrified. Cf 3 Hen. VI. v. 2 : " For Warwick was a bug 
that fear'd us all." In T. of S. i. 2, we have both senses of fear in close 
connection : ^'Pet. Tush ! tush ! fear boys with bugs. Gru. For he fears 
none." See C. p. 245. 

To steal your thoughts. As a thief disguised. 

Nice direction. Fastidious estimation. Cf. " nice and coy," Tzvo Gent. 
iii. I, and C. p. 333. 

Scajtted. Limited, restricted. Cf iii. 2, " Scant this excess ;" and v. i, 
" Scant this breathing courtesy." 

Wit. In its original sense oi foresight, wisdom (A. S. wit, mind), as in 
the familiar expressions, " at his wit's end," " lost his wits," etc. S. uses 
the word also in its present sense. See C. pp. 316 and 342. 

Yourself. The pronouns myself, thyself, etc., were often used in S.'s 
time (as they still are in poetry) as the subject of a verb. See below (iv. 
I), "Thyself Shalt see the act." Cf Milton {P. L. iv. 75), "Myself am hell." 
On the inaccuracy of expressions like " My father and myself" (for " My 
father and I"), see F. § 500, N. v. 

Stood as fair. Would have stood. In fair there is an allusion to the 
Moor's complexion. 

The Sophy. The Suf, or Shah of Persia. Cf T. N. ii. 5, and iii. 4. Ba- 
con [Essay xliii.) speaks oi^'Ismael, the Sophy o{ Persia." 

Sultan Solyman. The most famous sultan of this name was Solyman 
the Magnificent, who reigned from 1520 to 1566. 

Cer-stare. This is the reading of the folios and H.'s quarto. R.'s 
quarto has out-stare. 

Alas the while! This expression, like Woe the tuhile ! {J. C. i. 3), seems 
originally to have meant, "Alas for the present state of things !" but it 
came to be used as indefinitely as the simple alas ! 



138 



NOTES. 



Hercules and Lie has. Lichas was the servant who brought to Hercules 
the poisoned tunic from Dejanira, according to Ovid {Met. ix. 155). 

Play at dice Which is, etc. That is, in order to decide which is, etc. As 
Abbott (Gr. § 382) has said, " The Elizabethan writers objected to scarcely 
any ellipsis, provided the deficiency could be easily supplied from the 
context." 

Alcides beaten by his page. Alcides, according to Diodorus, was the 
original name of Hercules, given him on account of his descent from Al- 
caeus, the son of Perseus. Th.e old copies have rage instead oipage. The 
correction was made by Theobald. 

Nor will not. Double negatives (with negative meaning) are not un- 
common in the Elizabethan writers. 

The Temple. The church, where the oath was to be taken. 

Blest or ctirsed^st. It is possible that blest is to be regarded as an in- 
stance of the ellipsis of the superlative ending, not unusual at that time. 
Thus in M.for M. iv. 6, we have " the generous- and gravest citizens." So 
Heywood : " Only the grave and wisest of the land ;" and Ben Jonson : 
" The soft and sweetest music." In iii. 2, we have " The best conditioned 
and unwearied spirit," where the ellipsis is in the second adjective. 

Scene II. — The folio has ^'■Enter the clowne alone.^'' 

Scorn rtinning with thy heels. The play upon words is obvious, though 
it sorely troubled Steevens, who even proposed as an emendation " Scorn 
running ; withe (i. e. hamper with a withe, or osier band) thy heels." In 
Miich Ado, iii. 4, we have " I scorn that with my heels." 

Via! Away! (Italian.) 

For the heavens ! Mason proposed to change heavens to haven, because 
" it is not likely that S. would make the Devil conjure Launcelot to do 
anything for Heavet'Cs sake ;" but, of course, as Boswell has suggested, the 
wit of the expression consists in that very incongruity. 

Well, my conscience says, etc. The passage reads thus in the first folio : 
" wel, my conscience saies La7tcelet hoMgt not, bouge sales the fiend, bouge 
not saies my conscience, conscience say I you counsaile well, fiend say I 
you counsaile well, to be rul'd by my conscience I should stay v/ith the 
lew my Maister, (who God blesse the marke) is a kinde of diuell ;" etc. 

God bless (or save) the 7nark ! The origin and the meaning of this ex- 
pression are alike obscure. It appears to be used most frequently " as a 
parenthetic apology for some profane or vulgar word." 

Incarnation. For incarnate, of course. R.'s quarto has incarnal. 

Sand-blind. Dim of sight ; as if there were sand in the eye, or perhaps 
floating before it. It means something more than purblind, for Latimer 
{Sertnons) says, "The Saintis be purre-blinde and sand-blinde." High- 
gravel-blihd is Launcelot's own exaggeration of the word. 

Confusions. The reading of H.'s quarto and the folios. R.'s quarto 
has conclusions, which K. adopts ; but, as the C. P. ed. suggests, " Launce- 
lot would not have given a hard word so correctly." 

Marry ! A corruption oiMary. It was originally a mode of swearing 
by the Virgin, but its origin had come to be forgotten in S.'s day. See 
C.p. 179. 



ACT II. SCENE II. 139 

GocTs sonfies. Corrupted from God''s sahzts, or sanctities, or sant^ (health) 
— it is impossible to decide which. 

What a will. A for he is common in the old dramatists, in the mouths 
of peasants and illiterate people. 

Talk y 021. of young Master Lawicelot. Imperative, and not interrogative. 
This is the punctuation of the old copies, followed by K. and W., but not 
by the C. P. ed. and D. Launcelot insists upon calling himself Master, 
an honour to which old Gobbo does not consider him entitled. 

Father. Launcelot twice calls G:o\ho father, but the old man does not 
even suspect with whom he is talking, since, as W. remarks, the peasantry 
used to call all old people father or mother. 

The sisters three. The Fates of classic fable. 

Your child that shall be. Here again some of the sand-blind critics have 
been mystified by Launcelot's incongruous talk. Malone says, " Launce- 
lot /r^i^a<^/v here indulges himself in talking nonsense," but he is not quite 
sure about it ; and Steevens suggests that he " may mean that he shall 
hereafter prove his claim to the title of child by his dutiful behaviour," 
etc. 

Lord worshipped. Perhaps, as some explain it=a lord worshipful, re- 
ferring to the beard and the claim to the title oi Master. According to 
stage tradition, Launcelot kneels with his back to the old man, who, " be- 
ing sand-blind," mistakes the hair on his head for a beard (St.). 

Fill-horse. Fill for thill, or shaft, is a familiar word in New Eng^nd, 
but in old England it is not known except as a provincialism in the Mid- 
land counties. We have " i' the fills" in T. and C. iii. 2. 

I have set up my rest. That is, I have determined. "A metaphor taken 
from play, where the highest stake the parties were disposed to venture 
was called the rest.'''' Nares restricts the term to the old game o{ primero, 
but Gififord (endorsed by Dyce) says that it is incorrect to do so. The 
expression occurs also in AWs Well, ii. i, W. T. iv. 3, and R. and J. iv. 5, 
and V. 3. 

As far as God has any ground. A characteristic speech in the mouth 
of a Venetian. The lower orders in Venice regard the main land with an 
admiration which can hardly be understood by those who have been able, 
all their days, to walk where they would (K.). 

Give me your p7'esent. Another instance of the expletive use oime. Sec 
on pilled me, i. 3, and C. p. 181. 

Gramercy. A corruption of the French gra7zd merci, "great thanks." 

Cater-cousins. Commonly explained 2A=-quatre-cousitis, or " fourth cous- 
ins," but this is doubtful. The meaning evidently is, that they do not 
seem much akin, or do not agree very well. 

A dish of doz'es. Mr. C. A. Brown infers, from this and other passages 
in his plays, that S. must have visited Italy. " Where," he asks, " did he 
obtain his numerous graphic touches of national manners .'' Where did 
he learn of an old villager's coming into the city with ' a dish of doves' as 
a present to his son's master ? A present thus given, and in our days 
too, and of doves, is not uncommon in Italy." But, as H. suggests, the 
poet may have gained this knowledge of the country from other travellers ; 
and it is well known that Kemp, a fellow-actor, visited Italy- 



140 



NOTES. 



Preferr'd thee. To prefer often meant to " recommend for promotion," 
and sometimes to " promote." See C. p. 377, 

The old proverb. It is said that there is a Scotch proverb, " The grace 
of God is gear enough." 

Guarded. Trimmed, ornamented. The broidered edging guarded, or 
protected, the cloth from wear. See also Henry VIII. Prol. and Much 
Ado, i. I. Cf " guards on wanton Cupid's hose," Z. L. L. iv. 3. 

Well, if any man, etc. This is Johnson's punctuation, which W. also 
follows. The construction is, " "Well, if any man in Italy which doth offer 
to swear upon a book have a fairer table" — the expression being like 
"any man that breathes," etc. After having thus admired his table, he 
breaks off to predict his good fortune. As Johnson remarks, "the act of 
expanding his hand" reminds him of laying it on the book in taking an 
oath. For a different punctuation and interpretation, see H. 

In chiromancy, or palmistry (fortune-telling by the lines on the palm 
of the hand), the table Ime, or line of fortune, is the one running from the 
fore-finger below the other fingers to the side of the hand. The natural 
line is the one running through the middle of the palm. The line of life 
is the one which encircles the ball of the thumb. The space between the 
two first is called viejisa, or the table. 

Aleven. A vulgarism for eleven. 

For this gear. See above, i. i. 

Iijpiinkling of an eye. The words of an eye are found only in R.'s quarto. 

Bestow' d. This use oi bestow (=-put away, dispose of) is now obsolete. 
Cf. 2 Kings, v. 24 ; Luke, xii. 17, 18. See C. pp. 201 and 377. 

Hear thee. In this, as in some other expressions (" fare thee well," etc.), 
thee appears to be used for thou, and not reflexively. 

Liberal. Free, reckless ; but not in so bad a sense as in Much Ado, 
iv. I ("a liberal villain"), where it means licentious. Cf. "liberal shep- 
herds," Ham. iv. 7. 

Take pain. We now use only the plural, " take pains." S. uses both. 
See below, v. i. 

Thy skipping spirit. Thy frolicsome humour. Cf Ham. iii. 4 : " Upon 
the heat and flame of thy distemper Sprinkle cool patience." Spirit, as 
often, is a monosyllable^jr/r/fe. 

Misconstrued. The first folio has misconsterd here, but misconstrued in 
J. C. V. 3. 

While grace is saying. See C. pp. 134-138, and Marsh, Led. on Eng. 
Lang. (First Series), pp. 649-658. In S.'s day the construction in saying 
or a-saying was going out of use, and the verbal noun in -ing was begin- 
ning to be regularly used in a passive sense. The construction, is being 
said, etc., as Marsh remarks, '■ is an awkward neologism, which . . . ought 
to be discountenanced as an attempt at the artificial improvement of the 
language at a point where it needed no amendment." "The " ignorance of 
grammarians" has been " a frequent catise of the corruption of language." 

Hood mine eyes. Hats were worn at meals, and especially on ceremonial 
occasions — a custom probably derived from the days of chivalry. Even 
now, at the installation banquet of the Knights of the Garter, all the 
Knights Companions wear their hats and plumes (St.). 



ACT II. SCENE V. 



141 



Studied in a sad osteitt. Trained to put on a sober aspect. Below (ii. 
8) we have " fair ostents (manifestations, tokens) of love ;" and in Henry 
V. V. (chorus), "full trophy, signal, and ostent" (display). 

/ must to Lorenzo. This ellipsis of the verb was common, especially 
after will ; as " I'll to him," R. and J. iii. 2, etc. 

Scene III. — See me talk with thee. So in folio. Most editors have in 
talk. 

Exhibit. For iithibit (restrain). 

What heinous sin. Possibly this is one of the instances in which what 
is used ioxwhat a. Cf. J. C. i. 3 : " What night is this !" See other ex- 
amples in C. p. 190. 

Scene IV. — We have not spoke us yet of. We have not yet bespoken. 
The reading of the fourth folio (adopted by Pope) is as yet. 

Quaintly. Tastefully, gracefully. Quaint (from Latin comptus, or, ac- 
cording to some, cognitus — or from both, as Wb. makes it), in the old writ- 
ers, means elegant, and hence artful, ingenious. In Johnson's day it had 
come to mean affected, and now it has "the united sense oi antique and 
odd.^^ Cf. " quaint lies" below, iii. 4 ; " fine, quaint, graceful," Much Ado, 
iii. 4 ; " more quaint, more pleasing," T. of S. iv. 3 ; " quaintly writ," Two 
Gent. ii. i ; " quaintly made," Id. iii. i ; etc. 

Not tindertook. We have " tmdertd en^'' vaW.T. iii. 2, and " to be under- 
took'''' in Othello, v. 2. S. often uses two or more forms of the participle. 
Thus in J. C. we have stricken, struck, and strucken {stroken in folio, but 
strucken in C. of E. i. 2). So we find mistook and mistaken, etc. See C. 
p. 149. We must bear in mind that the Elizabethan age was a transi- 
tional period in the history of the language. See on writ below. 

Break up. Break open, as in W. T. iii. 2. Break up was a term in carv- 
ing ; and in L. L. L. iv. i, we have " break up this capon," where the " ca- 
pon" is a letter. 

Writ. S. uses both W7'it and wrote for the past tense, and writ, written, 
and xvrote for the participle. 

Provided of. Of\s often used of the agent (where we use by), and of the 
instrument (for with), as here. Cf. Macb. i. 2 : " supplied of kernes," 
etc. A small number of prepositions serve to express an immense num- 
ber of relations, and their use in different periods of the language is very 
variable. See Abbott, p. 138. 

Needs. Of necessity ; a genitive used adverbially. Cf whiles. See C. 
p. 179. 

Directed .... What gold, etc. The ellipsis here is very like what is 
called a zeugma. 

Dare. Either the " subjunctive used imperatively" (Abbott, p. 264), or 
the 3d pers. of the imperative. 

Faithless. Unbelieving; as in Matt. xvii. 17. 

Scene V. — Difference of. Cf. Lear, iv. 2 : " O, the difference of man 
and man !" 

What, Jessica ! A customary exclamation of impatience. Cf J. C. ii. I : 



142 



NOTES. 



"Whe7t, Lucius, when?'''' and see C. p. 204. Why was used in the same 
way. 

To-night. That is, last night ; as in J. C. iii. 3 : " I dreamt to-night that 
I did feast with Caesar." Usually in S. it has its modern meaning. 

Bid forth. Invited out. Cf. " find forth," i. i, and " feasting forth," be- 
low. See C. p. 149. S. uses bidden only in Much Ado, iii. 3. He uses 
both bade and bid for the past tense. See above on undertook. 

Towards my rest. Against my peace of mind. 

Black-Monday. Easter-Monday ; so called, as the old chronicler Stowe 
tells us, because " in the 34th of Edward III. (1360), the 14th of April, and 
the morrow after Easter-day, King Edward with his host lay before the 
city of Paris : which day was full dark of mist and hail, and so bitter cold 
that many men died on their horses' backs with the cold." 

/' the. It is ith in the folio. See C. p. 155. 

The wry-necKd fife. It is doubtful whether wry-necked refers to the 
fife or the fifer. Boswell quotes from Barnaby Rich (1618) : "A fife is a 
wry-neckt musician, for he always looks away from his instrument." On 
the other hand, the old English fife (like one used in classical times) had 
a bent mouth-piece. It was called t\\&fiute a bee, as the mouth-piece re- 
sembled the beak of a bird. For squealing R.'s quarto has sqtieaking. 

Jacob's staff. See Gen. xxxii. 10, and Heb. xi. 21. In Spenser, F. Q. i. 6, 
35, " lacobs staffe" more probably refers to St. James (Jacobus), who is 
usually represented with a pilgrim's hat and staff. 

Of feasting forth. Of —owe for, as often. See above (ii. 4) on " provided 
of." Cf y. C. iii. 3 : " I have no will to wander forth of doors." 

Jewess' eye. It is Jewes in the quartos and first and second folios, 
Jew's in the later folios. Pope suggested Jewess', which has been gener- 
ally adopted. W. says that Jewess is not so old as the time of S., but the 
C. P. ed. states that it occurs in the Bible of 161 1 [Acts, xvi. i), and even 
as early as Wiclif's version. Launcelot's phrase, as Dyce remarks, is " a 
slight alteration, for the nonce, of the proverbial expression. Worth a Jew's 
eye." The Jews were often threatened with the loss of an eye, or some 
other mutilation, in order to extort treasure from them. 

Patch. A name given to the professional jester (probably from his 
patched or parti- colored coat), and afterwards used more generally as a 
term of contempt. Some derive the word from the Itz\ia.n ^azzo (foolish, 
insane). 

Perhaps I will return. Abbott (p. 226), who denies that S. ever uses 
will for shall, thinks this {^Sidi Perchance I will) may be " a regular idiom." 
It may be that the will— shall (as the C. P. ed. makes it), but it is quite as 
likely that the shade of meaning is such as would now be expressed by 
will — " Perhaps I may decide to return," or something of the sort. " I 
shall return" would be future pure and simple ; " I will return" adds the 
idea that the possible future act depends upon the speaker's will. 

Scene VI. — Venus'' pigeons. The chariot of Venus was drawn by 
doves. In Tempest, iv. i, she is described as " dove - drawn," and her 
" doves" are also referred to in M. N. D. i. i. 

Obliged. Pledged, plighted. 



ACT II. SCENE VL ' 143 

Sits down. That is, sits down zvith. So in the next sentence, " pace 
them (with)." This ellipsis of a preposition which has already been ex- 
pressed before the relative is quite common in S. Cf. J. C. ii. 2 : "To 
whom it must be done" (to) ; M.for M. ii. 2 : " Most ignorant of what 
he's most assured" (of) ; and below (iv. i) : "A gift of all (of which) he 
dies possess'd." See C. pp. 183, 240. 

Untread again. Retrace. 

Ayoufiger. This is the reading of all the early editions. Rowe changed 
it to younker, which S. uses in 3 Hen. VI. ii. i. 

Scarfed. Decked with flags and streamers. In AWs Well, ii. 3, " scarfs" 
are associated with " bannerets" in the comparison of a person to a " ves- 
sel." 

Hoiv like a prodigal doth she return. So in first folio. The quartos 
have " the prodigal" here, which may be what S. wrote. It makes the 
reference to the parable more direct. 

Over-weather'' d. Weather-beaten. This is the reading of both quartos. 
The folios have over-wither' d. 

Who love /, etc. The inflection of who is often neglected. See exam- 
ples in Macb. iii. i ; iii. 3 ; iv. 3 ; Cor. ii. I ; etc. Directly after a preposi- 
tion, whom is usually found. Cf L. L. L. ii. i : " Consider %vho the king 
your father sends, To zvhom he sends." In Cymb. iv. 2, we have the inter- 
rogative who even after a preposition : "To whoT'' 

Exchange. That is, of apparel. 

Too-too light. Halliwell has urged that "too too" used to be a com- 
pound epithet, and should be printed with a hyphen ; but, as W. remarks, 
it seems clear that in some cases (as in Ham. i. 2 : " this too, too solid 
flesh") it was an emphatic repetition, just as it is now. 

An office of discovery, etc. The office of a torch-bearer is to show, what 
is in the way, but I ought to keep in the shade. 

Close. Secret, stealthy. 

By my hood. This has been explained as. swearing by the hood of his 
masque-dress ; but it is quite likely that W. is right in understanding 
" my hood" here and elsewhere to be " myself," i. e. " my estate" — man- 
hood, knighthood, or whatever may be appropriate to the speaker. 

Gentile. The first folio has gentle. There is evidently a play upon the 
two words. 

Beshrew me. Curse me. On beshrew, shrew, shrewd, etc., see C. pp. 
221-224. 

If that. This use oi that as " a conjunctional affix" (Abbott, p. 196) was 
common. Thus we have " when that" {J. C. iii. 2), " why that" {Hen. V. 
V. 2), "while that" {Id.), "though that" {Cor. i. i), "since that" {Macb. iv. 
3), etc. etc. The fuller forms, " If so were that" (Chaucer), " If so be that," 
etc., suggest that all these expressions may be similar ellipses. See, how- 
ever, C. p. 312. 

Glad on'' t. S. often uses on where we should use of C£ "jealous on 
me," y. C. i. 2, and see note in C. p. 151. In Temp. i. 2, on'' t= of it occurs 
three times. In Macb. iii. i, we find "he cannot come out on''s grave." 
See also i Sam. xxvii. ii. 



144 



NOTES. 



Scene VII. — Of gold, who. In the Elizabethan age, which was not yet 
established as the neuter relative. It was often applied to persons (as in 
the Lord's Prayer, " Our Father which art in heaven") and who to things. 
In the next line but one, we have " silver, which." 

What many men desire. The first folio omits many. 

If thou beest rated. This beest must not be confounded with the sub- 
junctive be. It is the A. S. bist, 2d pers. sing. pres. indicative of beon, to 
be. See above, i. 3, " there be land-rats," and C. p. 342. 

Afeard. S. uses afeard t^\ times, and afraid \\. C. p. 245. 

Disabling. Disparaging. Disable is used in the same sense in As You 
Like It, iv. I, and v. 4, and in i Hen. VI. v. 3. 

Hyrcanian. Hyrcania was an extensive tract of country southeast of 
the Caspian. S. three times mentions the tigers of Hyrcania : 3 Henry 
VI i. 4 ; Macb. iii. 4 ; Ham. ii. 2 (C. P. ed.). Cf. Virgil, ^n. iv. 367. 

Vasty. Waste, desolate, like the Latin vastus. S. uses vast several 
times as a woyxw^waste. See W. T.'\.i; Havz. i. 2, etc. 

Throzighfares. Thorotigh and throicgh are the same word, and S. uses 
either, as suits the measure. So with throughly and thoroughly. We find 
throughfare only here, and thoroughfare only in Cymb. i. 3. 

Come view. See on I had rather to be married, i. 2. 

ZfV like. Likely. Cf J. C. i. 2 ibis), and see C. pp. 175, 180. 

Too gross, etc. Too coarse a material to enclose her shroud. Cere- 
cloth=cerement [Ham. i. 4), cloth smeared with melted wax (Lat. cera) or 
gums, for embalming the dead. Obscure has the accent on the first sylla- 
ble, as in several other places. See Rich. II iii. 3 : " A little, little grave, 
an obscure grave ;" Ham. iv. 5 : " His means of death, his obscure funer- 
al ;" etc. 

Undervalued, etc. See on nothing undervalued, i. i. During the Middle 
Ages, and down to the i6th century, the value of silver was ^a ^i^d xt> 3^"^ 
even, as here stated, ^^ that of gold. In the latter part of the 17th cen- 
tury it fell to as low as -^q. In the i8th it rose to f-5, and is now about 

X5' 

Insculp''d upon. Graven on the outside. The angel was worth about 
ten shillings. It had on one side a figure of Michael piercing the dragon. 
The use of the device is said to have originated in Pope Gregory's pun 




GOLDEN ANGEL OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. 



ACT 11, SCENE IX. 



145 



oiAngli and Angeli. Verstegan, in his Restitution of Decayed Intelligence^ 
says : " The name of Engel is yet at this present in all the Teutonick 
tongues, to wit, the high and low Dutch, &c., as much to say as Angel, 
and if a Dutch-man be asked how he would in his language call an Angel- 
like-man, he would answer, ei^i English-man, Engel being in their tongue 
an Angel, and English, which they write Engelsche, Angel-like. And such 
reason and consideration may have moved our former kings, upon their 
best coin of pure and fine gold, to set the image of an angel." The figure 
shows the angel of Elizabeth. 

A carrion death. That is, a skull. 

Glisters. Glisten does not occur in S. nor in Milton. In both we find 
glister several times. See W. T. iii. 2 ; Rich. II. iii. 3 ; T.A. ii. i, etc. ; 
Lycidas, 79 ; Comus, 219 ; P. L. iii. 550 ; iv. 645, 653, etc. 

Tombs. This is Johnson's emendation for the timber of the old copies. 

Part. Depart. See Cor. v. 6 : " When I parted hence." Depart was 
also used where we should %^.y part ; as in the Marriage Service "till 
death us do part" is a corruption of " till death us depart" (C. P. ed.). 

Scene VIII. — A passion. Passionate outcry. Conf. T. and C. v. 2: 
"Your passion draws ears hither." Passion is used as a verb in the 
same sense in Two Gent. iv. 4 (C. P. ed.). 

Reasoned. Talked, conversed. K. quotes B. and F. : " There is no end 
of women's reasojiijig.'''' 

The narrow seas. The English Channel — a name not unfrequently ap- 
plied to it in that day. It occurs again below, iii. i. 

Fraught. We now nze fraicght {^-freighted) only in a figurative sense. 
Fraught is used as a noun in T. IV.v. i, and 0th. iii. 3. Freight does not 
occur in S. or Milton. In Temp. i. 2, where many modern editions have 
" freighting souls," the foHo has " fraughting." 

Slubber. To do carelessly or imperfectly. It also means to obscure, or 
soil ; as in 0th. i. 2 : " slubber the gloss of your new fortunes." 

Piping. Ripeness, maturity. 

Mind of lave. That is, loving mind. Cf. " mind of honour," M.for M. 
ii.4(W.). 

Ostents. Manifestations, displays. See on sad ostent, ii. 2. 

Conveniently. In its original sense, fitly, suitably. Cf. Prov. xxx. 8 ; 
Rom. i. 28 ; Eph. v. 4. So in the one instance in which Milton uses the 
word {S. A. 1471), "some convenient ransom." 

Turning his face, etc. As Malone suggests, we have here " the outline 
of a beautiful picture." 

Sensible. Sensitive. Cf. L. L. L. iv. 3 : " Love's feeling is more soft and 
sensible Than are the tender horns of cockled snails." 

Quicken his embraced heazmiess. Enliven the melancholy he indulges. 
Cf. iii. 2, " rash-embrac'd despair." 

Do we so. 1st pers. imperative ; a form not uncommon in S. Cf. He^t. 
V. iv. 8 : " Do we all holy rites !" See also below (v. i), " But go we in." 

Scene IX. — Address' d me. Prepared myself. See C. p. 269. 
Fortune now, etc. Success now to the hope of my heart ! 

K 



146 NOTES. 

By the fool multihide. See on by the French lord, \. 2, and cm. fool gttdgeon^ 
i. I. The Var. ed. quotes several instances oi meant by used as here. 

Fond. Foolish; as usually in S. Cf. Milton, S. A. 812 : "fond and 
reasonless ;" etc. See also on the same word, iii. 3. 

The martlet. The house-martin. Cf. Macb. i. 6 : " the temple-haunting 
martlet." 

In the weather. Exposed to the weather. Cf. K. John, iv. 2, " Pour 
down thy weather," and Cymb. iii. 3, " left me bare to weather" (C. P. ed.). 

Jump with. Agree with. Cf. Rich. III. iii. i : " outward show, which 
. . . seldom or never jumpeth with the heart." Jump also means to risk, 
hazard, as in Macbeth, i. 7, "jump the life to come." See also Cor. iii. i. 
Jump is found as an adjective (^matched, or suitable), as "jump names" 
(Ben J.) ; also as an adverb (=just, exactly), as in Ham. i. i, "jump at this 
dead hour ;" and v. 2, "jump upon this bloody question." 

Estates. Ranks. Cf. Hamlet, v. i : " 'twas of some estate" (i. e. high 
rank). 

Should caver, etc. Should wear their hats, that now take them off, as 
to superiors. 

Peasantry. The first folio hzs pleasantry. 

Ruin. Refuse, rubbish (St.). 

To offend, etc. That is, an offender cannot be the judge of his own case. 

The fire. Fire is here, as often, a dissyllable. In J. C. iii. i, we have it 
both as a monosyllable and as a dissyllable in a single line: "As fire 
drives out fire, so pity pity." Hours is a dissyllable four tirnes in as many 
lines in 3 Hen. VI. ii. 5, and a monosyllable four lines below in the same 
passage. Cf. the use oi ocean, i. i, and see the note. 

I wis. . This expression, as Craik has shown (see C. p. 311), is a cor- 
ruption of the adverbial ywis (certainly), but S. probably regarded it as a 
pronoun and. verb. 

You are sped. Your fate is settled. Cf. "you two are sped," 7^ i?/" -5". v. 
2, and " I am sped," R. and J. iii. i. See also Lycidas, 122 : " What need 
they ? They are sped." 

Wroth. The old editions have wroath. It is probably another form of 
wrath (and not oiruth, as some have made it), used in the sense of " tor- 
turing anger." See Richardson's Z>zW. under wrath. 

My lo7'd. Probably used jestingly in response to the my lady. So in i 
Hen. IV. ii. 4, the prince says, " How now, my lady the hostess ?" in reply 
to her " My lord the Prince !" In Rich. II. v. 5, also, a groom addresses 
the king, " Hail, royal prince !" and Richard replies, " Thanks, noble 
peer !" 

Sensible regreets. Tangible greetings, substantial salutations. Regreet 
strictly means a responsive greeting. The word occurs again in K. John. 
iii. I. 

Commends. Cf. Rich. II. iii. 3 : " Speak to his gentle hearing kind com- 
mends." Elsewhere we have commeiidations ; as in M. W.\\.2\ Hen. VIII. 
iv. 2 ; etc. 

Yet have I not. I have not yet. Yet=up to this time, is now used 
only after a negative, but in the Elizabethan age it was often used, as 
here, before a negative. Cf. " For yet his honour never heard a play" ( T. 



ACT III. SCENE I. 147 

ofS. i. i) and this from Ascham's Scholemaster : " There be that kepe them 
out of fier and yet was never burned" — which would be nonsense now-a- 

days. 

'Likely. In the Yankee sense of pro77iising. Cf 2 Hen. IV. ni. 2, " a, 
likely fellow !" and "your likeliest men !" 

Hio-h-day wit. " Holiday terms," as Hotspur expresses it (i Hen. IV. 
\.T,).^ So'mM.W. the host says of Fenton that " he speaks hohday." 

Cupid's post. So below (v. i) we have " there's a post come from my 
master," etc. 

Bassanio, lord love. May it be Bassanio, O Cupid ! 



ACT III. 

Scene l.—It lives there unchecked. The report prevails there uncon- 
tradicted. 

The Goodwins. The Goodwin Sands, off the eastern coast of Kent. 
According to tradition, they were once an island belonging to Earl God- 
win, which was swallowed up by the sea about A.D. 1 100. 





-=S^^- 



THE GOODWIN SANDS, DURING A STORM. 



Knapped. Snapped, broke up. The word occurs in Fs. xlvi. 9 (Prayer- 
book version) : " He knappeth the spear in sunder." Ginger was a fa- 
vorite condiment with old people (C. P. ed.). 

The wings she flew withal. The boy's clothes she wore when she eloped. 

Match. Connection, compact. Cf Cymb. iii. 6 : " Cadwal and I will 
play the cook and servant ; 'tis our match." 

SjHug. Spruce, trim, Cf Lear, iv. 6 : " Like a smug bridegroom" (the 
reading of the first folio). 



148 NOTES. 

Half a million. That is, ducats. 

Fed. That is, " Is he not fed," etc. 

It shall go hard, etc. I will spare no effort to outdo you in what you 
teach me. 

Matched. That is, matched with them, found to match them. 

My turquoise. The folio reads, "my Turkies." Marvellous properties 
were ascribed to this "Turkey-stone." Its colour was said to change 
with the health of the wearer. Ben Jonson, in Sejanus, refers to this : — 

"And true as Turkise in the deare lord's ring, 
Looke well or ill with him." 

And Fenton {Secret Wonders of Nature, 1569) says: ^^ T\\e "Turkeys doth 
move when there is any perill prepared to him that weareth it" (?^r. ed.). 

Scene II. — Hate counsels not, etc. Hatred would prompt no such feel- 
ing. 

Beshrew. See on beshrew me, ii. 6. 

Overlook' d. Bewitched. Cf. M. fV. y. ^ : " thou wast o'erlooked even 
from thy birth." 

Though yours, not yours. The first yours is a monosyllable, the second 
a dissyllable. See on The fire, ii. 9. 

Prove it so, etc. If it prove so (that is, that I am " not yours"), let for- 
tune, not me, bear the penalty. 

Peize. The French peser, to weigh. Here it means to delay, as if 
weighing each moment deliberately, or (as Steevens and others explain 
the figure) as if the time .were retarded by hanging weights to it. S. uses 
the word in the sense oiweigh in Rich. II. v. 3, and in that oi poise vciKing 
John, ii. I (2 in some editions). Peize is intelligible enough here, but Rowe 
substituted /?>(;^, and Collier's MS. corrector (see C. p. 19) has '■'■pause the 
time." 

Then confess. An allusion to the use of the rack to extort confession. 

A swan-like end. Cf 0th. v. 2 : " I will play the swan. And die in mu- 
sic;" 2iUdiKing John, v. 7 : "this pale, faint swan, Who chants a doleful 
hymn to his own death." 

Presence. Dignity of mien. 

Alcides. Laomedon, king of Troy, had offended Neptune, who threat- 
ened to inundate the country unless the monarch should sacrifice his 
daughter Hesione. Accordingly, she was fastened to a rock on the sea- 
shore to become the prey of a sea-monster. Hercules rescued her, not 
for "love," but to get possession of a pair of famous' horses belonging to 
the king. The story is told by Ovid, Met. xi. 

Dardanian wives. Trojan women. 

Live thou, I live. The first folio gives the passage thus : — 

" Liue thou, I Hue with much more dismay 
I view the sight, then thou that mak'st the fray." 

H.'s quarto has "much much, more dismay." 

Fancy. Love; as often. Cf. M. N. D.'\.\: "sighs and tears, poor 
fancy's followers." So also in compounds, as "fancy-free" {M.N.D. ii. 
2), " fancy-sick" {Id. iii. 2), etc. The Song describes in exquisite imagery 



ACT III, SCENE JI. 



149 



the birth and the death of a transient affection, "engendered in the eye," 
not in the heart. 

Still. Ever. ^&q. on Still phicking the g7'ass,\. 1. 

Season'' d. This carries on the metaphor suggested, by tainted in the 
preceding line (C. P. ed.). 

Approve. Justify. On the meanings of the word in S., see C. p. 206. 

No vice so simple. So unmixed. The old editions have voice, 
, His otitward parts. On his for its, see C. pp. 160-171. 

S-airs. The folio has stayers, which K. prints, explaining it as==barriers 
Oi bulwarks. 

Livers ivhite as milk. See above on " let us make incision," etc., ii. i. 

Excrement. Used, as the related word excrescence still is, for a super- 
ficial growth. It refers here to the " beards," and is elsewhere used in 
the same sense. Cf. L. L. Z. v. i : " dally with my excrement, with my 
mustachio." It is also applied to the hair in C. ofE. ii. 2, and W. T. iv, 4. 

Making thein lightest. That is, in a bad sense. Cf. below (v. i), " Let 
me give light, but let me not be light," etc. 

Crisped. Curled. Milton {Com. 984) speaks of "crisped shades and 
bowers," referring to the leaves waved and curled by the wind. 

Upon supposed fairness. On the strength of their fictitious beauty. The 
expression seems to me to be closely connected with the preceding line, 
and not with the one before that. The C. P. ed. makes ?//^;z=" surmount- 
ing." 

The dozury, etc. S. has several times expressed his antipathy to false 
hair. In the 68th Sonnet there is a passage very similar to the one in 
the text. See also T. of A. iv. 3 : "Thatch your poor thin roofs With 
burdens of the dead." In L. L. L. iv. 3, Biron says : — 

" O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd, 
It mourns that painting, and usurping hair, 
Should ravish doters with a faJse aspect." 

It was then comparatively a recent fashion. Stow says : " Women's peri- 
wigs were first brought into England about the time of the massacre of 
Paris" (1572). Barnaby Rich, in 1615, says of the periwig-sellers : " These 
attire-makers within these forty years were not known by that name. . . . 
But now they are not ashamed to set them forth upon their stalls — such 
monstrous mop-poles of hair — so proportioned and deformed that but 
within these twenty or thirty years would have drawn the passers-by to 
stand and gaze, and to wonder at them." 

Guiled. Beguiling, deceptive. Marsh {Led. on Eng. Lang. p. 655) gives 
examples of " passive participles with active meaning," as well-spokefj, 
fair-spoken, etc. " Well read'''' is similar. C. P. ed. quotes I Hen. IV. i. 
3 : "jeering and disdain'd (that is, full of disdain) contempt." 

An Indian beauty. This has been a great stumbling-block to the crit- 
ics, who have proposed to change beauty to dozvdy, gipsy, idol, visage, feat- 
ure, beldam, etc. Theobald wished to punctuate thus : " Veiling an In- 
dian ; beauty, in a word," etc. As W. remarks, " Indian is used in a 
derogatory sense ; and the occurrence of beauteous and beauty in the same 
sentence is not at all unlike Shakespeare's manner." 

Hard food for Midas. An allusion to the story of Midas, king of Phrygia, 



x^o NOTES. 

who gained from Bacchus the power to change whatever he touched to 
gold, and found to his sorrow that even his food was thus transmuted. 
See Ovid, M?/. xi. 

I -will none of thee. See note onlmiist to Lorenzo, ii. 2. 

Nor none of thee. See on Nor refuse none, i. 2. 

Thy plainness. The folio and both quartos have /(J/^/z^-j-j-^. Warburton 
suggested the emendation, which is adopted by St., D., and W. K., H., 
Sr., and C. P. ed. \i2iV& palejtess. The antithesis oi plainness 2LXid eloquence 
is more natural and more forcible, especially after that of threate7test and 
promise in the preceding line. 

Green-eyed jealousy. Cf. the familiar expression, " green-eyed monster," 
in 0th. iii. 3. 

Rain thy joy. The later quartos have rein, which is preferred by one or 
two modern editors. 

Counterfeit. Portrait. Cf T. of A.v. 1 : "Thou draw'st a counterfeit 
Best in all Athens." So in the Wit of a Woman (1604) : "the drawing of 
my daughter's counterfeit." 

Hairs. Cf L. L. L. iv. 3 : " her hairs were gold." 

Unfurnish' d. Unaccompanied by the other eye, or, perhaps, by the 
other features. 

Continent. In its original sense of that which contains. Cf Ham. iv. 2 : 
" tomb enough and continent ;" and v, 2 : " you shall find in him the con- 
tinent of what part a gentleman would see" (that is, find him containing 
every quality which a gentleman would desire to contemplate for imita- 
tion). Sometimes the word means that which is contained (contents), as in 
2 Hen. IV. ii. 4 : " thou globe of sinful continents." 

I come by 7iote, etc. "I come according to written warrant (the scroll 
just read) to give a kiss and receive the lady" (C. P. ed.). 

Prize. By metonymy, for the contest. 

Peals. R.'s quarto \s2& pearles. 

Livings. Possessions, fortune. Cf v. i : " you have given me life and 
living." So in R. and J. iv. 5 : " life, living, all is death's." See ■3\?>oMark, 
xii. 44 ; Licke, viii. 43 ; xv. 12, 30, etc. 

Sum of nothing. This is the reading of the folio, and is more in keep- 
ing with the negative characteristics which follow than sum of sotnething, 
the reading of the quartos. K., W., and H. adopt the former ; the C. P. 
ed. the latter. 

Happiest of all in. The folio and both quartos have " of all is," which 
is retained by the C. P. ed. ; but we agree with W. that " there can be no 
reasonable doubt" that S. wrote in. 

Be my vantage, etc. Be a sufficient ground for my crying out against 
you. " Exclaim <?«" occurs also in i Hen. VL iii. 3, and v. 3 ; and in iv. 3, 
we have " upon your grace exclaims." But in Ham. ii. 2, 0th. ii. 3, etc., 
we find " exclaim against." 

Fairly spoke. So in Temp, iv, I, S. uses both spoke and spoken as partici- 
ples. See on Not tmdertook, ii. 2. 

None from me. That is, none away from me, since you have enough 
yourselves. 

So thou canst get. If thou canst. SeeC, p. 174. 



ACT III. SCENE II. 151. 

As szvift. The Elizabethan writers use adjectives freely as adverbs. 
Cf. T. of S. i. I : " Thou didst it excellent," etc. 

Inter?nissio7i. Pause, delay. The punctuation is Theobald's, and is 
adopted by most of the modern editors. The folio reads : — 
"You lou'd, I lou'd for intermission, 
No more pertaines to me my Lord then you ;" 

and the pointing of the first line is the same in the other old copies. 
Roof. It is printed " rough" in the folio. 

Achiev'd her mistress. S. often uses achieve in this sense. Cf T.ofS. 
i. I : " If I achieve not this young modest girl" (see t^o other instances 
in same scene) ; T. A. ii. i : "to achieve her whom I love ;" 0th. ii. i : 
" achieved a maid ;" etc. 

Our feast shall be. Shall=will, as often. See C. p. 217. 

If that. See above, ii. 6. 

Very friends. True friends. Cf R. and J. iii. i : " My very friend." 
See also Gen. xxvii. 21 ; John, vii. 26. Ve7y is the Fr. vrai (old Fr. verai), 
from Lat. vei^aczcs, a derivative of verus. 

Both. Dost and doth are the established forms for the auxiliary ; doest 
and doeth, in other cases. In old writers we find the former used for the 
latter, as here. Cf J. C. i. i : " What dost thou with thy best apparel 
on ?" and see C. p. 371. 

Estate. State, condition. Cf Gen. xliii. 7 ; Ps. cxxxvi. 23, etc. On the 
other hand, state is sometimes found in the sense of estate. See just be- 
low : " My state was nothing." 

Success. S. sometimes uses this word in its old sense of issue, result. 
See C. p. 241. 

Wo7i the fleece. See on A golden fleece, \. 1. 

Shrewd. Evil. See on Beshrew me, ii. 6. 

Constant. Steadfast, self-possessed. Cf. Tempest, i. 2 : " Who was so 
firm, so constant," etc. 

Mere. Absolute, thorough. See C. p. 146. 
■ Hit. Hit the mark, succeeded. 

Should appear. Would appear. See C. pp. 217, 244. 

Discharge. Pay. Cf C. of E. iv. 4 : " I will discharge thee." 

Confound. Destroy, ruin. Cf A. and C. iii. 3 : " What willingly he did 
confound," etc. It is not unfrequently used oi'imxt,— consume. See Cor. 
i. 6 : '* confound an hour ;" A. and C.\.\: " confound the time ;" I Henry 
IV. i. 3 : " confound the best part of an hour ;" etc. 

Impeach the freedom of the state. Denies that strangers have equal 
rights in Venice (C. P. ed.). Cf , however, iv. i, where Shylock says : — 
" If you deny me, let the danger light 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom." 

S. there makes him speak as if the freedom of Venice depended upon a 
charter which might be revoked by the power that had granted it. The 
thought here may be the same. 

Magnifcoes of greatest port. Grandees of highest rank. 

Persicaded with. Used persuasion with. It is the only instance in 
which S. joins with to this verb. 

Envious. Malicious. So ^■wz^^ malice, in iv. i, and often in S. C.p. 225. 



152 



NOTES. 



Deny. Forbid. Elsewhere it means refuse ; as in ii. 2, and several 
times in iv. i, v. i, etc. 

Best conditioned and unwearied. See on Blest or cursed'' st, ii. i. In like 
manner, the ending -ly is sometimes omitted in the second of a pair of 
adverbs. See Rich. II. i. 3 : " sprightfully and bold ;" Rich. III. iii. 4 : 
" cheerfully and smooth ;" 0th. iii. 4 : " startlingly and rash ;" etc. More 
rarely, it is omitted in the first word, as in B. and F.'s Pilg. ii. 2 : " Now 
poor and basely Thou set'st toils." For cojiditioned, see on Condition, i. 2. 

Description. For the metre, see on On the ocean, \. i. 

Hair. This may be a dissyllable, as Malone and others make it, 
or, quite as likely, through should be thoro^lgh, as often in S. See on 
Throughfares, ii. 7. 

You shall hence. See on / mtist to Lorenzo, ii. 2. 

Cheer. In its original meaning of coicntenance. See C, p. 278. It is 
the French chere, which even up to the i6th century was used in the sense 
oi head, face. Nicot's " la chere baissee" is exactly equivalent to Milton's 
" drooping cheer" {P. L. vi. 496). In some of the provincial dialects of 
France the word still retains its old meaning. 

Is forfeit. Is forfeited. So below, iv, i : " thy wealth being forfeit." 
Cf. L. L. Z. v. 2 : " our states are forfeit," etc. 

You and I. Cf " who you shall rightly love," i. 2, and " not I" for " not 
me," iii. 2. See also 0th. iv. 2 : " you have seen Cassio and she together." 
This disregard of the inflections of pronouns was common in writers of 
the time. See C. p. 193. 

Nor rest. R.'s quarto has no rest. 

Scene III. — Naughty. This word was formerly used in a much stronger 
sense than at present. In Much Ado, v. 2, the villain Borachio is called a 
'* naughty man ;" and Gloster, in Lear, iii. 7, when the cruel Regan plucks 
his beard, addresses her as "Naughty lady!" Qi.Prov. vi. 12; i Sam. 
xvii. 28 ; James, i. 21. Below, v. I, " a naughty world"=a wicked world. . 

Fond. Foolish. This appears to be the original sense of the word. 
In Wiclif's Bible, I Cor. i. 27, we find " the thingis that he.-\\ fo7iftyd of the 
world." See C. p. 272. In T. W. ii. 2, the word is used as a verb^^i?;**?. 

Dull-eyed. Wanting in perception (as explained in C. P. ed.), not with 
eyes dimmed with tears, though " dull-eyed melancholy" {Per. i. 2) seems 
to favor the latter explanation. 

Kept. Kept company, dwelt. See C. p. 236. 

Made moan. See on Make moan to be abridged, i. i. 

Grant this forfeiture to hold. Allow it to hold good. 

Deny the course of law. Interfere with it, refuse to let it take its course. 
See on Deny above, iii. 2. 

For the comniodity, etc. For if the advantages heretofore enjoyed by 
strangers in Venice be refused them, it will seriously impeach the justice 
of the state. Capell (whom K. follows) read and pointed thus : — 

" The duke cannot deny the course of law 
For (i. e. oti accotmt of) the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice : if it be denied, 
'Twill much impeach," etc. 



ACT III. SCENE IV. l-» 

' Commodity there means " traffic, commercial intercourse " But as W 
suggests, the ordinary reading is more in Shakespeare's "free style than 
such a precise passage as Capell makes of it.— R.'s quarto has ''his 
state."— Thomas, m his History of Italy e (1561), has a chapter on "The 
hbertee of straungers" m Venice, in which he says : "Al men, specially 
strangers, haue so muche libertee there, that though they speake very ill 
by the Venetians, so they attempt nothinge in effect against theyr astate 

no man shal control theim for it And generally of all other thynges' 

so thou offende no man priuately, no man shal offende the : whyche yn- 
,wJ^^5^ '^^"^^ prmcipall cause, that draweth so many straungers thith- 
er (C.P. ed.). ^^& on Commodity, \.'^' 

Bated Reduced, lowered. Cf ♦' bated breath," i. 3. It should not be 
printed bated (as by K., W., H., and others), since it is not a mere metrical 
contraction of abated, but a distinct word (cf wake and awake, etc.) often 
tound m prose writers. See examples in Wb. The foho has " bated" 
both here and m 1. 3. 

. ^A'^'^^^'^'^' ^^^ subject is omitted, as eyen now it often is in " Would 
to Lxod, etc. 

Scene IV.— Cd7«r^//'. Conception, ^tt ox^ profound conceit,\. \. 
Send relief For the omission of the preposition, see on would ^rant 
continuance,!. 1. t^'^r^i. 

Lover. Friend. So just below, " bosom loyer." Cf % C lii 2 • " Ro- 
mans, countrymen, and loyers." See also Psalm xxxyiii. 11. The word 
moreover, was formerly applied to both sexes, as paramour and villaiii 
were. Eyen now we say of a man and woman that they are loyers, or a 
pair of loyers. See C. d. 259. 

yof ^be-tc P^'edT'^^ '''' " '^^^^ °''^'''^'^ beneyolence can constrain 

Nor shall not. See on Nor refuse none, i 2 

C^;;^/««.^;« This word was sometimes used contemptuously, as/.//^ 
still IS. See Jtchus Ccesar, ly. 3 : " Companion, hence !" and not^ in C. p. 

Waste Spend. Cf Milton {Sonnet to Mr. Lawrence) : - Help waste a 
than here^' ''' ^'^''''' '^' ^^^" of "killing time" is mor^e Tyfdent 

,Jt: Tf'r -^"'^ ^^^^"^ "^^ ^^^^ *^^ "^°^e faniiliar needs be. On needs, 
see 11. 4, or L-. p. 1 79. ' 

Cruelty. R.'s quarto has " misery " 
hilxjT'^''^' StewardshiiV Cf T. of A. ii. 2 : " If you suspect my h^is- 

Ma^mge. Cf Temp. i. 2 : « The manage of my state." The word is es- 
fhy SL"dwf.^°H^f'-n^'" ' ^"^- ^^- "• 3 '' "Speak terms of manage to 

!v.^x'a°nY^if ;i^ ;. T^i srs r '^ '''''- ''- '' ^' ^' ^''' ^'''' 

>S%£;^;fj Refuse this charge ^^.^.. you. See on ^... 
The which. See on the same phrase, i. 3, or C. p. 302. 
Cousm s hand The word cousin in that day " seems to haye been used 



154 



NOTES. 



instead of our kinsman and kinswoman, and to have supplied the place of 
both" (Malone). 

Padua. The old editions have Mantua. The triple mention oi Padua 
as the residence of Bellario in iv. i, makes the correction here an obvious 
one ; besides, the University of Padua was famed for its jurists (Theo.). 

With imagined speed. With the speed of thought. Cf. Hen. V. iii. Prol. : 
" Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies" (Steevens). 

Tranect. This is the reading of the old editions, but the word occurs 
nowhere else. It may be a misprint for "traject," as Rowe suggested. 
This would be the English equivalent of the French trajet, Italian traghet- 
to. Coryat {Crudities, 1611) says : "There are in Venice thirteen ferries 
or passages, which they commonly call Traghetti, where passengers may 
be transported in a gondola to what place of the city they will." K. 
thinks the tranect was the tow-boat of the ferry. 

Get thee gone. See C. p. 261. 

Convenient. Proper, suitable. See on conveniently, ii. 8. 

Of us. That is, of our seeing them. 

Accomplished. Furnished. <Zi.Rich. II. ii. I : " Accomplish'd with the 
number of thy hours," i. e. when he was of thy age. See also Hen. V. iv. 
(Chorus) : " The armourers accomplishing (i. e. equipping) the knights." 

Accoutred. R.'s quarto has " apparreld." 

Braver. Finer, more showy. Both brave and bravery are often used in 
this sense with reference to dress, personal appearance, etc. See several 
examples in Temp. i. 2, iii. 2, andy. i. Cf also Bacon, Essay xxxvii. : " the 
bravery of their liveries ;" and Isa. iii. 18. The Scottish braw is the same 
word. 

Mincing. This word was not always contemptuous. In the one in^ 
stance in which Milton uses it {Comtis, 964 : " the mincing Dryades") it 
appears to mean tripping lightly or gracefully. Cf. also Drayton, Polyolb, 
Song yi.-^V\\. : " Ye maids, the hornpipe then so mincingly that tread." 

Quaint. Ingenious, elaborate. ■- See on quaintly ordered, ii. 4. 

Denying. Refusing ; as several times above* 

/ cotdd not do withal. I could not help it. In Palgrave's Lesclaircisse- 
ment de la Lang. Fr., 1530, we find it thus explained : '■'■I can nat do with- 
all, a thyng lyeth nat in me, or I am nat in faulte that a thyng is done." 
Cf. also Shelton's Don Quixote, 1620 : " Why, if you do not vnderstand 
(said Sancho), I cannot do withalL" 

That men. This omission of so before that is very common. See J. C. 
i. I : " That Tiber trembled," etc., and the note in C. p. 140. Cf Alacb. ii. 
2 : " That death and nature do contend," and, a few lines below, " That 
they did wake each other." 

Raw. Crude, or, in Yankee parlance, " green." Cf. As You Like, iii. 2 : 
" Thou art raw." 

Jacks. A common term of contempt. See Much Ado, v. i ; Rich. III. 
i. 3 ; A. and C. iii. 1 1 {bis) ; R. and jf. ii. 4 ; etc. 

All my whole. Cf. i Heit. VI. i. i : "All the whole army." 

Scene V. — I fear you. That is, it2iX for you. Steevens quotes Rich. 
III. i. I : " his physicians fear him mightily." 



ACT IV. SCENE I. j^c 

Agitation. The clown's blunder for cogitation. 

When Isktin Scylla, etc. In the Alexandreis of Philip Gaultier, written 
in the early part of the 13th century, we find the line, '' Incidis in Scyllam 
cupiens vitare Charybdim," which had been often quoted and translated 
by English writers before the time of S. The substance of the line has 
been traced even farther back, to St. Augustine, who {In Johannis Evang) 

writes : " quasi fugiens Charybdim, in Scyllam incurras a Charybdi 

quidem evasisti, sed in Scyllasis scopulis naufragisti." 

Enow. The plural form of enough. See F. § 493, n. viii. 

Cover. Launcelot quibbles on the two meanings of the word, to lay the 
table and to wear oite's hat (see above, ii. 9 : " how many then should cov- 
er," etc.). 

Quarrelling with occasion. " Quibbling on every opportunity taking 
every opportunity to make perverse replies" (C. P. ed.). 

Discretion. Discrimination. 

Stcited. Suited to each other, arranged. 

A many. This expression is obsolete, though we still say a few and 
many a m a distributive sense. It is occasionally used in poetry as bv 
Gerald Massey {Love's Fairy Ring) : — -t- ^j j- 

" We've known a many sorrows, Sweet : 
We've wept a many tears." 

C. P. ed. quotes Tennyson {Miller's Daughter) : " They have not shed a 
many tears." 

Garnished. Furnished, equipped. 

For a tricksy word, etc. For a quibbling word (or a play upon words) 
set the meaning at defiance. Tricksy means sportive in Temp. v. 1 : " Mv 
tricksy spirit !" ^ . j 

How cheer' St thou ? Equivalent to " What cheer } How is't with you ?" 
m W. T. i. 2. R.'s quarto has " How far'st thou .?" 

_ Good sweet. No term of compliment or endearment did more service 
m that day than siueet. This combination of mod sweet occurs in Cor i t. 
M. W. iv. 2, T. ofS. iv. I, etc. ' ' ^' 

Mean it, it Is reason, etc. R.'s quarto has "mean it, then In reason." 

H. s quarto differs from this by having it instead of then ; a partial cor- 
rection which makes nonsense until it is completed in the folio bv chang- 
ing in to w" (W.). ^ ^ 

Pawn'd. Staked, wagered. Cf. Cymb. i. 5 (4 in Globe ed.) : "I dare 
thereupon pawn the moiety of my estate to your ring." 

Howsoever. The folio has how som ere-^2. common vulgarism in that day. 



ACT IV. 

Scene l.—Uncapable. S. uses both incapable (five times) and uncapable 
(twice). So we find both tincertain. and incertain, unconstant and incon- 
stant, unfortunate and i7fortunate, ungratefid and ingrateftd, etc. 

Obdtirate. The accent is on the penult, as always in S. ' See Wore on 
the word. 

And that. Here that is omitted after since, and is then inserted in the 



156 



NOTES. 



second clause without since. This is a common construction in the Eliz- 
abethan writers. In most cases the subjects of the clauses are different. 
Cf. T. and C. ii. 2 :— 

"7/ this law 

Of nature be corrupted through affection, 

And that great minds," etc. 

So in Ben Jpnson's Cynthia's Revels, iii. 2 : ^'■Though my soul be guilty and 
that I think," etc. Abbott [Gr. § 285) gives other examples. On the use 
oithat with if, since, when, etc., see on If that, ii. 6. 

Envy's. See on envious, iii. 2. Cf. Mark, xv. 10. 

Lead'st the fashion, etc. You keep up this show of malice only until the 
final hour of execution. 

Remorse. Relenting, pity. This is its usual meaning in S. See King 
John, ii. 2 : " Soft petitions, pity, and remorse ;" iv. 3 : " tears of soft re- 
morse," and (same scene) " rivers of remorse." So rei?iorseful=cov[\.^^s- 
sionate, and re7norseless— -pitiless. 

Apparent. See C. p. 228. 

Where. Whereas (Sr.). Cf. Two Gent. iii. i : " Where I thought the 
remnant of mine age," etc. ; L. L. L. ii. i : " Where now his knowledge 
must prove ignorance ;" Cor. i. 10 : " Where I thought to crush him ;" 
etc. On the other hand, whereas sometimes=w//^r^ (D.), as in 2 Hen. IV. 
i. 2 : " Whereas the king and queen do mean to hawk." 

Loose. Release (Sr.). This is the reading of the folio, but many mod- 
ern editors have lose. 

Moiety. Portion, share (not an exact half) ; as often in S. (D,). Cf. 
Ham. i. I : "a moiety competent." 

Royal merchant. This epithet was striking and well understood in S.'s 
time, when Sir Thomas Gresham was honoured with the title of the royal 
merchant, both from his wealth, and because he transacted the mercantile 
business of Queen Elizabeth ; and at Venice the Giustiniani, the Grimaldi, 
and others were literally " merchant princes," and known as such through- 
out Europe. 

Gentle. A pun on Gentile is doubtless intended (C. P. ed.). 

Possessed. See on this word, i. 3. 

Sabbath. H.'s quarto \iz.'& Sabaoth. "The same mistake occurs in Ba- 
con's Advancement of Learnijig, bk. ii. 24 : ' Sacred & inspired Diuinitie, 
the Sabaoth and port of all men's labours and peregrinations.' Spenser 
also confounds the signification of the two words {F. Q. viii. 2) : — 

" • But thenceforth all shall rest eternally 

With him that is the God of Sabaoth hight.' 

Dr. Johnson, in the first edition of his Dictionary, treated Sabbath and 
Sabaoth as identical words, and Sir Walter Scott has {Ivanhoe, ch. x.), 
'The gains of a week, aye the space between two Sabaoths.' But the 
error has been corrected in later editions" (C. P. ed.). 

Your charter. See on the freedom of the state, iii. 2. 

Carrion. See C. p. 216. 

But, say, it is. But suppose it is. Capell first inserted the commas, 
which are required to make the sense clear (C. P. ed.). 

Some 77ien there are lave not. See owl have a mind' presages, etc., i. I. 



ACT IK SCENE I. j . ^ 

A gaping pig. "Editors and commentators have thought it necessary 
to discuss the point whether Shylock means the gaping of a pig brought 
to table with an apple in its mouth, or the gaping of the living, squealing 
animal. He may have meant either" (W.). 

Masters of passioju Agencies (such as he has been speaking of) that 
move either the sympathy or antipathy of any man. Passion is used in 
the original sense oijeeliiig or emotion. Cf. J.C.\.2 : " I have much mis- 
took your passion," and see C. p. 149. 

Nor I will not. See on nor refuse none, i. 2. 

Abide. See C. p. 279, 

Lodged. Settled, abiding. 

Current. Persistent course. 

My answer. H.'s quarto has answers. 

Think you question. Consider that you are arguing with. See C p ^oq 

Main flood The "ocean tide." Cf. "the flood," i. i. "The main'"' 
generally means the sea (as in Rich. III. i. 4 : " tumbling billows of the 
mam ), but sometimes the main land. Cf Ham. iv. 4 : " the main of Po- 
land," and Lear, iii. i : "swell the curled waters 'bove the main." 

You may as well use question, etc. In the copy of H.'s quarto beloneing 
to the Duke of Devonshire we have :— 

"As well use question with the wolf 
The ewe bleat for the lamb ;" 

while in the copy of the same edition, the property of the Earl of Ellesmere 
it IS corrected to read as in the text. The change must have been made 
while the edition was printing. The folio prints " Or even as well use 
question with the wolf," but leaves the second line imperfect. 

Forbid . . . . to make no noise. Another example of the irregular use of 
double negatives. 

Fretted. Both quartos hzxe fretten. 
_ What harder? Thus in the folio. The quartos and most modern edi- 
tions have " what's harder .?" 

With all brief and plain conveniency. "With such brevity and direct- 
ness as befits the administration of justice" (C. P. ed.). 

Have judgment. Receive sentence. Cf. Rich. II. iv. i : " Thieves are 
not judged," etc. _ See also Ltike, xix. 22. 
Parts. Capacities, employments. 

Dearly bought. In " dear bought" (iii. 2) we have, as often, the adjective 
for the adverb. 

Upon my power. By virtue of my prerogative. 
^ Determine. _ Decide. The word sometimes means to put an end to, as 
in 2 Heji. IV. IV. 4 : " Till his friend sickness hath determined me ;" some- 
times, to com'e to an e7id, as in Cor. v. 3 : " till these wars determine." 
Good cheer. See on merry cheer, iii. 2. 

Not on thy sole, but on thy sotil. Cf J. C. i. I : " a mender of bad soles " 
and see C. p. 148. For the sentiment, cf 2 Heiiry IV. iv. 4 (1; in Globe 
edition) : — ^ t vj 

" Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts, 
Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart." 

The hangman's axe. So in Fletcher's Prophetess, iii. 2, Dioclesian, who 



158 



NOTES. 



had stabbed Aper, is called " the hangman of Volusius Aper ;" and in 
Jacke Drums Entertainment (1616), when Brabant Junior says, " let mine 
owne hand Be mine owne hangman," he refers to stabbing himself In 
the Duke of Buckingham's Rehearsal, Bayes speaks of " a great huge 
hangman, . . . with his sword drawn" (D.), 

Envy. See on envious, iii. 2. 

Inexorable. The old copies have inexecrable. The third folio substi- 
tuted inexorable. 

For thy life. For allowing thee to live. 

Pythagoras. The philosopher of Samos, to whom was attributed the 
doctrine of the transmigration of souls. Qi. T. N. \v . 2. : '■'■Clowii. What 
is the opinion of Pythagoras concerning wild-fowl ? Malvolio. That the 
soul of our grandam might haply inhabit a bird" (C. P. ed.). 

Who, hang''d, etc. See on Who, if he break, i. 3. 

Starved. The folio has " steru'd." The word is the A. S. steorfan. Old 
Eng. sterven (frequent in Chaucer), Ger. sterben. It originally meant to 
die, but in the latter part of the i6th century came to be used in the narrow- 
er sense of perishing with cold (a meaning which it still has in the north 
of England) or with hunger. We find the form sterve in Spenser, F. Q. ii. 
6, 34, ii. 7, 57, etc. (=:to die), and in SheJ). Cal. Feb. 83, " starved with cold." 
For the change of meaning, cf the Lat. necare, to kill, which in late Lat., 
and in the Fr. noyer, means to drown. 

Endless. The quartos have " cureless." 

Go give. Cf. " come view," ii. 7 ; "go sleep," Rich. II. iv. i ; "go seek 
the king," Ham. ii. i ; etc. 

To fill tip. To fulfil. 

No impediment to let him lack. " No hindrance to his receiving" (C. P. 
ed.). See on nor refuse none, i. 2, and cf " forbid ... to make no noise," 
above. 

Came you. The quartos have " Come you." 

The difference, etc. The dispute which is the subject of the present trial. 

Throughly. See on throughfare, ii. 7. 

Such 7'ule. Such due form. 

Within his danger. See C. p. 205, and cf. V. and A. : " Come not within 
his danger." 

// droppeth, etc. As Douce suggests, S. may have had in mind Ecclesi- 
asticus, XXXV. 20 : " Mercy is seasonable in the time of affliction, as clouds 
of rain in the time of drought." 

Twice blest. " Endowed with double blessing" (C. P. ed.). 

Shows. Represents. Cf. Rich. II. iii. 4 : " showing . . . our firm estate." 

Shozv. Show itself, appear. 

Seasons. Tempers. 'Malone quotes the tragedy of Kiitg Edward III. 

(1596) :- 

"And kings approach the nearest unto God 
By giving hfe and safety unto men ;" 

and Sir John Harrington's Orlando Furioso : — 

" This noble virtue and divine 
Doth chiefly make a man so rave and odd, 
As in that one he most resembleth God." 



ACT IV. SCENE I. 



159 



We do pray for mercy, etc. Sir W. Blackstone considered this out of 
character as addressed to a Jew. S. probably had the Lord's Prayer im- 
mediately in his mind, but the sentiment is also found in Ecdesiastiais, 
xxviii. (K.). 

Render. See C. pp. 256, 291, 303. 

Spoke. See on 7iot undertook, ii. 2. 

Follow. Insist upon. 

Needs. See on the same word, iii. 4, or C. p. 179. 

Discharge. Pay. Cf. " discharge the Jew," iii, 2. 

Twice. Some critics would change this to thrice, because we have 
"thrice the sum" just below. It is possible that tzvice is a misprint, as 
W. suggests, but we see no necessity for bringing the two passages into 
mathematical agreement. 

Truth. Honesty. So " a true man" was an honest man, as opposed to 
a thief. See M.for M. iv. 2 ; " Every true man's apparel fits your thief;" 
I Hen. IV. ii. 2 : " the thieves have bound the true men ;" etc. 

A Daniel come to judgment. The allusion is to the History of Stisanna, 
45 : " The Lord raised up the holy spirit of a young youth, whose name 
was Daniel," etc. 

How do I. R.'s quarto has " how I do." 

Hath full relation, etc. Clearly recognizes that this penalty (like any 
other) should be paid. 

More elder. Double comparatives and superlatives are common in the 
Elizabethan writers. In S. we find " more larger" {A. a7id C. iii. 6), " more 
better" {Temp. i. 2), "more braver" {Id.), "more ra.wer''^ {Ham. \\ 2), "most 
boldest" (y. C. iii. i), " most unkindest" {Id. iii. 2), etc. See C. p. 281. In 
Rich. II. ii. I, we find " less happier," the only instance with less found in 
Shakespeare. 

The very words. We still use very as an adjective in this sense o{ exact, 
ox precise, though not in the sense oi true, as in "my very friends," iii. 2. 

Balance. W. says, " The plural form balances was rarely used in S.'s 
day, if at all." We find " ballances, or a payre of ballance : librd'^ in 
Baret's Alvearie (1580), and Cotgrave (161 1) has "balance ; a pair of bal- 
ances." 

On your charge. At your expense. 

Shotdd bleed. The quartos have " do bleed," and in the next line " Is 
it so nominated," and below " You, merchant," etc. ( W.). 

Still her use. Ever her custom. See on still plucki^tg, i. I. On use, cf. 
y. C. ii. 2 : "these things are beyond all use." 

Such misery. The C. P. ed. suggests that misery may have the accent 
on the penult both here and in K. John, iii. 4 : " And buss thee as thy wife. 
Misery's love," etc. 

Speak me fair in death. Speak well of me when I am dead. " Romeo 
that spoke him fair" {R. and y. iii. i) means " Romeo that spoke to him in 
conciliatory terms." This is the usual meaning of the phrase (C. P. ed.). 

A love. Cf. the use of lover in " bosom lover of my lord," iii. 4. D. 
reads " lover" here. 

Repent not you. The quartos have " Repent but you." 

Instantly. R.'s quarto has " presently." 



i6o NOTES. 

With all my heart. Q.i. Rich. II. ii. i, where the dying Gaunt jests on 
his name : — 

"Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: 

Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave," etc., 
and where, in reply to Richard's question, " Can sick men play so nicely 
with their names ?" he says : — 

"No, misery makes sport to mock itself.''^ 

Which is as dear. See on of gold, who, ii. 7. 

These be. See on there be land-rats, i. 3. 

Barrabas. So spelt in Tyndale's and Coverdale's versions. In Mar- 
lowe's Jezv of Malta the name is Barabas, not Barabbas (C. P. ed.). 

The substance. The amount. 

Confiscate. Confiscated. This Latinism is most frequent in verbs de- 
rived from the first conjugation (as dedicate, consecrate, degenerate, suffocate, 
etc.), but is found in other Latin derivatives. See Ham. iii. i : " most de- 
ject and wretched ;" T and C. i. 3 : " Many are infect f etc. So in Bacon 
{Essay xvi.) : " Their means are less exhaust.'''' 

I have thee on the hip. See on catch him once upon the hip, i. 3. 

The which. See on the same, i. 3. 

Contrive. Plot. Cf. J. C ii. 3 : " the fates with traitors do contrive ;" 
and see C. p. 260. 

Which htcmbleness, etc. Which humble entreaty on thy part may induce 
me to commute for a fine. 

Ay, for the state, etc. That is, the half which goes to the state may be 
thus commuted, but not Antonio's. 

So please. If it please. See on Pleaseth me, i. 3. 

In tise. In trust for Shylock, for the purpose of securing it at his death 
to Lorenzo. Use does not mean interest, which Antonio has said (i. 3) that 
he neither gives nor takes. 

Of all he dies possess'' d. See on grant continuance, i. i, and cf Rich. II. 
i. I : " the cause you come," i. e. come on or for. 

Ten more. To make up a jury of twelve. This, as Malone observes, 
appears to have been an old joke. 

Desire your grace of pardon. C£ M. N. D. iii. i : " desire of you riiore 
acquaintance ;" and Othello, iii, 3 : "beseech you of your pardon." So in 
Spenser, F. Q. ii. 9, 42 : " If it be I, of pardon I you pray." In J. C. iii. I, 
we have " desiring thee" = desiring ^thee. See C. p. 275. 

Gratify. Recompense. Cf Cor. ii. 2 : " To gratify his noble service." 

Cope. Reward, requite. On the derivation of the word, see Wb. 

Of force. Of necessity. Perforce is still used in this sense. See C. 
p. 351. 

Attempt. Tempt. Cf.M.for M. iv. 2: "Neither my coat, integrity, 
nor persuasion can with ease attempt you" (C. P. ed.). 

Methinks. See on methoicght, i. 3. 

An if. See ox\. An you will not, i. 2. 

Be valued against. So in folio. The quartos have " valew'd gainst," 
which requires " commandement" to be a quadrisyllable. W. says that 
this pronunciation was obsolete in S.'s day ; but it seems to be required 



ACT V. SCENE I. i6i 

in I Hen. FZ i. 3 : " From him I have express commandement." See C. 
pp. 246-254. 

Scene II. — Upon more advice. Upon further consideration. Cf. M. 
for M.v.i: •' after more advice ;" and Rick. IL i. 3 : " upon good ad- 
vice," i, e. after due deliberation. 

Old swearing. Old in this intensive or augmentative sense is common 
in writers of the time. For other examples in S., see Macb. ii. 3, M. W. 
i. 7, Much Ado, v. 2, and 2 Hen. IV. ii. 4. Cf the slang phrase of our day, 
" a high old time." The Italian vecchio, as D. remarks, is (or was) used in 
the same sense. 



ACT V. 



_ Scene I. — Troilus. S. in the play of Troilus a7td Cressida makes " Cres- 

sid" the daughter of the soothsayer Calchas, but her name is not found in 

classic fable. The allusion here is borrowed from Chaucer's Troilus and 

Cresseide, in which the prince is described as watching " upon the walles" 

.for Cressida's coming. 

Thisbe. The story of the Babylonian lovers, Pyramus and Thisbe, is 
told by Ovid, Met. iv. 55 foil. Golding's translation was published in 1564, 
but S. may have read the original. He probably drew more directly from 
Chaucer's Legende ofGoode Wojnen, in which Thisbe, Dido, and Medea are 
introduced one after another. 

Dido. The picture of Dido is not in accordance with Virgil's narrative. 
It may have been suggested by that of Ariadne in the Legende of Goode 
Women (2187 foil.) : — 

"to the stronde barefote fast she went. — 

Hire kerchefe on a pole styked shee, 
Ascaunce that he shulde hyt wel ysee, 
And hym remembre that she was behynde, 
And turn agayne, and on the stronde hire fynde." 

The earliest reference to the willow as a symbol of forsaken love is 
found in a MS. collection of poems by John Heywood, about 1530. See 
Brande's Poptdar Antiquities, vol. i. pp. 121-124 (Bohn's ed.). For illus- 
trations in S., see Much Ado, ii. i, 0th. iv. 3, and 3 Hen. VI. iii. 3. 

Waft. For wafted, as in K. John, ii. i : " Than now the English bot- 
toms have waft o'er." Theobald altered it to zmv'd, which W. and many 
other editors adopt. Cf lift for lifted in i He7try VI. i. i, Genesis, vii. 17, 
Psalm xeiii. 3, etc. 

Medea. The allusion is to the fable of her restoring ^son, the father 
of Jason, to youthful vigor by her enchantments. Ovid {Met. vii.) tells us 
that she drew blood from his veins, and supplied its place with the juice 
of certain herbs. In Gower's Conf. A?n. there is a beautiful description 
of Medea going forth at midnight to gather "the enchanted herbs.:" — 

" Thus it befell upon a night 
Whann there was nought but sterre light, 



1(^2, NOTES. 

She was vanished right as hir list, 

That HO wight but herself wist, 

And that was at midnight tide, 

The world was still on every side," etc. 

Unthrift. We have the word again in T. of A. iv. 3, and in Rich. II. ii. 3. 
In the latter it is used as a noun — " upstart unthrifts." 

Stephana. In the Tempest this name has the accent on the first syllable, 
where it belongs. 

Holy crosses. These are very common in Italy. Besides those in church- 
es, they mark the spots where heroes were born, where saints rested, where 
travellers died. They rise on hill-tops, and at the intersection of roads ; 
and there is now a shrine of the Madonna del Mare in the midst of the 
sea between Mestre and Venice, and another between Venice and Pales - 
trina, where the gondolier and mariner cross themselves in passing, and 
whose lamp nightly gleams over the waters, in moonlight and storm (K.). 

Nor we have not. See on nor refuse none, i. 2. 

Go we 171. See on Do we so, ii. 8. In " let us prepare," in the next line, 
we have the ordinary form of the ist pers. imperative. 

Sola, etc. An imitation of the post-horn. 

Master Lorenzo and Mistress Lorenzo. R.'s quarto has " M. Lorenzo, 
M. Lorenzo ;" H.'s quarto and the first folio, " M. Lorenzo, and M. Lo- 
renzo ;" the later folios, " M. Lorenzo, and Mrs. Lorenza." 

A post. See on same word, ii. 9. 

Lefs in. See on / must to Lorenzo, ii. 2. 

Music. This word sometimes meant musical instruments, or a band 
of music. See Hen. VIII. iv, 2 : " Bid the music leave ; they are harsh," 
etc. Cf. below, " It is your music, madam, of the house." 

Creep in. On m for into, see C. p. 191. 

Patines. The patine was the plate used for the sacramental bread, and 
was sometimes made of gold. R.'s quarto has "pattents;" H.'s quarto 
and the first folio, " pattens ;" and the second folio, " patterns," which is 
adopted by some modern editors. 

His motion. His for its. See C. pp. 160-171. 

Sings. For other allusions to the " music of the spheres" in S., see A. 
and C. V. 2, and T. N. iii. i. 

Cherubins. So in both quartos and first two folios. The singular cher- 
ubin is found in Temp. \. 2. It occurs in Spenser and other poets of the 
time, and is used even by Dryden. The French word is cherubin, the 
Italian cherubino, the Spanish querubin. 

Siich harinony, etc. Besides the music of the spheres, which no mortal 
ear ever caught a note of, there was by some philosophers supposed to be 
a harmony in the human soul. " Touching musical harmony," says Hook- 
er (quoted by Farmer), " whether by instrument or by voice, it being but 
of high and low sounds in a due proportionable disposition, such, notwith- 
standing, is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very 
part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced 
to think that the soul itself, by nature is, or hath in it, harmony." But, 
though this harmony is within us, "this muddy vesture of decay," as the 
poet here tells us, " doth grossly close it in" so that we cannot hear it. 



ACT V. SCENE I. 163 

Unhandled colts. Cf. Ariel's simile of the " unback'd colts," Temp. iv. i. 
Mutual. Common. Qi.M. N.D. iv. i : "mutual cry." 
Orpheus. Cf. Tzsjo Gent. iii. 2 : — 

"Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews, 
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones," etc., 

and Hen. VIII. iii. i : — 

"Orpheus with his lute made trees, 
And the mountain tops that freeze, 
Bow themselves when he did sing." 

His nature. See on his motion, a few lines above. 

Erebus. Cf. J. C. ii. I : " Not Erebus itself were dim enough," etc. The 
word, though sometimes used figuratively for the lower world in general, 
denotes strictly "a place of nether darkness between the Earth and 
Hades." 

Without respect. Absolutely, without regard to circumstances. See C. 
p. 337. St. thinks it means zuithout attention, and refers to the " attended" 
that follows. 

Attended. Attended to, listened to attentively. The Var. ed. quotes 
the I02d Sonnet : — 

"As Philomel in summer's front doth sing 
And stops her pipe in growth of riper days : 
Not that the summer is less pleasant now 
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night. 
But that wild music burthens every bough, 
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight." 

All the birds mentioned here — the crow, lark, cuckoo, etc. — are found in 
Italy. 

By season, etc. " By fitness of occasion are adapted or qualified to ob- 
tain their just appreciation, and to show their true excellence." 

Peace, ho! The old copies have " Peace ! How the moon," etc., and 
some of the editors prefer this reading. But, as D. remarks, " how" is 
often the old spelling of " ho !" In J. C. i. 2, we find " Peace, ho !" used, 
as here, to silence the music. 

Endymion. A beautiful shepherd beloved by Diana. Fletcher, in the 
Faithful Shepherdess, tells 

" How the pale Phoebe, hunting in a grove. 
First saw the boy Endymion, from whose eyes 
She took eternal fire that never dies ; 
How she convey'd him softly in a sleep, 
His temples bound with poppy, to the steep 
Head of old Patmos, where she stoops each night. 
Gilding the mountain with her brother's light. 
To kiss her sweetest." 

The fable appears in many form.s in the classic writers, and has been a 
favorite one with poets ever since. 

Which speed. See on Of gold, who, ii. 7. 

A tucket sounds. This stage direction is found in the first folio. A 
tucket (probably from the Italian toccata) is a flourish on a trumpet. Cf. 
Hen. V. iv, 2 : " Then let the trumpets sound The tucket-sonance." 

We shoidd hold day, etc. We should have day when the Antipodes do, 
if you, Portia, would walk abroad at night. 



1 64 NOTES. 

Let me give light, etc. See on too-too light, ii. 6, and making them lightest, 
etc., iii. 2. 

God sort all! God dispose all things ! CLRich. III. ii. 3 : — 

"All may be well ; but if God sort it so, 
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect." 

In all sense. In all reason. 

This breathing courtesy. Cf. Macb. v. 3 : " Mouth-honor, breath," 

Poesy. The poesy, or posy (for the two words are the same), of a ring 
was a motto or rhyme inscribed upon its inner side. The fashion of put- 
ting such " posies" on rings prevailed from the middle of the i6th to the 
close of the 17th centuries.* In 1624 a little book was published with 
the quaint title, Love's Garland, or Posies for Rings, Handkerchiefs, and 
Gloves ; and such pretty tokens, that lovers send their loves. Lilly, in his 
Enphices, Part Second, 1597, hopes that the ladies will be favourable to his 
work, " writing your judgments as you do the Posies in your rings, which 
are always next to the finger, not to be scene of him that holdeth you by 
the hand, and yet knowne by you that weare them on your hands." The 
Rev. Giles Moore, in his Journal, 1673-4, writes, " I bought for Ann Brett 
a gold ring, this being the posy : When this yott see, remember me.'''' 

Cf. IIaj?i. iii. 2 : "Is- this a prologue, or the poesy of a ring ?" In most 
of the modern editions (not in K. or W.) we find "posy" in this passage, as 
well as in the Merch. of Ven. ; but the first folio has " Poesie" in both plays. 
These are the only instances in which S. uses the word in this sense. 

Leave me not. Do not part with me. Leave is used in the same sense 
by Portia, a few lines below. 

Respective. Considerate, regardful. Conf. i?. and J. iii. i : "respective 
lenity ;" which Malone well explains by " cool, considerate gentleness." 
See C. p. 337. 

But zuell I know. Instead of these words both quartos have " No, God's 
my judge." It is commonly said to have been changed on account of the 
statute of James I. against the use of the name of God on the stage; but 
see on I zvish them a fair departure, i. 2. 

Scrubbed. Not merely stunted, as usually explained, but rather, as W. 
gives it, "dwarfish and unkempt." Cotgrave {Fr. and Eng. Diet.') has, 
" Marpaut. An ill-favoured scrub, a little ouglie or swartie wretch.'''' Coles 
{Lat. and Eng. Diet.) translates " scrubbed" by squalidus. 

I were best. Cf. y. C. iii. 2 : " truly you were best ;" and see C. p. 320. 

Void. See C. p. 264. 

The vii-tue of the rijig. The power it has ; the right to me and mine of 
which it is the pledge. See iii. 2, where Portia gives the ring. 

Contain. Retain. It often means r^j-/r^z/«, as in Z! ^^. ii. 2 : "contain 
thyself, good friend." 

Had pleased to have defended. For "had pleased to defend." The in-, 
accuracy is sometimes found in good writers of our day, and has even 
been defended by one or two grammarians. 

Wanted. As to^have wanted. 

* Inscriptions on the outside of rings have been common from the old Greek and Ro- 
man times. Chaucer, in TrailTis and Cresseide, describes the heroine as giving hei 
lover a ring. with a love-motto upon it, and receiving one in return. 



ACT V. SCENE L 



165 

On ceremony, see 



Urge. Urge you to give it to him ; insist upon it. 
C. pp. 143, 228. 

Cwil doctor. Doctor of civil lavir. 

Had held up. R.'s quarto has " did uphold." 

And, by these, etc. The quartos have " For, by these " Cf. R and 7 

ni. 5 : '' Night's candles are burnt out ;" Macb. ii. i ; " There's husband- 

7wu ''^r^^' Their candles are all out;" and Fairfax's Tasso, ix, 10 • 

When heaven s small candles next shall shine" (where the origina has 

merely dt notte). ^ 

XxhJlt^^' ^^^°"*^^^^"^^^°^d'i-i'andii.i. So below «r/z/zW/K=de- 

Wealth. 
lation." 
Which. 
Richly. 
Living. 
To road. 
Comforts. 



Weal, welfare. In the Litany « wealth" is opposed to " tribu- 

That is, which loan. 

Richly laden. Cf " richly left," i. i. 

See on livings, iii. 2. 

To harbour. Cf "ports, and piers, and roads," i. i. 
See C. p. 236. 
Satisfied of. Satisfied concerning; that is, you wish to know more 
about them. Atfidl^m full, fully. 

^ And' charge zis, etc. " In the Court of Queen's Bench, when a complaint 
is made against a person for ' contempt,' the practice is that before sen- 
tence IS finally pronounced he is sent into the Crown Office, and being 
there ' charged upon interrogatories' he is made to swear that he will ' an- 
swer all things faithfully' " (Lord C2m^hQ\V& Shakespeare's Legal Acaiiire- 
ments). <i 2 

Inter' gatories. This contracted form was common in S.'s time We 
find It even in a prose passage in AlPs Well, iv. 3, as printed in the early 
editions. The full form occurs in K. John, iii. i. 

Fear. Fear for, be anxious about. See on Ifearyott, iii. c. 

Sore Severely, grievously. It is the A. S. sdre, related to the Ger. sehr. 
See Wb. Cf Gen. xx. 8, etc. 








INDEX OF WORDS EXPLAINED. 



a (capering, etc.). 132, 140. 

a (=he), 139. 

a many, 155. 

accomplished, 154. 

achieve, 151. 

address, 145. 

advice, 161, 165. 

afeard, 144. 

aleven, 140. 

an (=^if), 131. 

and (^an), 131. 

angel, 144. 

approve, 149. 

argosy, 127. 

aspect {accent of), 128, 137. 

attempt, 160. 

attended, 163. 

avail (avale), 128. 

balance (plural), 159. 

Barrabas, 159. 

bate, 153. 

be (=are), 134, 144, 159. 

beefs, 136. 

beholding (^beholden), 135. 

beshrew, 143. 

bestow, 140. 

Black-Monday, 142. 

bonnet, 132. 

bottom, 128. 

brave, 154. 

break (his day), 136. 

break up, 141. 

by (:=about), 132. 

can, 133. 

cater-cousin, 139. 
cere-cloth, 144. 
Charybdis, 155. 
cheer, 152, 155, 157. 
cherubin, 162. 
circumstance, 130. 
close, 143. 

commends (noun), 146. 
commodity, 131. 
conceit, 153. 
condition, 133. 
confiscate (participle), 159. 
confound, 151. 
constant, 151. 
contain, 164. 



continent, 150 
contrive, 160. 
conveniency, 157. 
convenient, i ^5, 154. 
cope, 160. 
counterfeit, 150. 
county (:=count), 131. 
courtesy, 128. 
cousin, 153. 
cover, 146, 155. 
crisped, 149. 
current, 156. 
curtsy, 128. 

danger, 158. 
deny, 152. 
determine, 157. 
disable, 144. 
discharge, 151, 159. 
ciisci^etion, 155. 
do, 127. 
doit. 136. 
doth, 151. 
doublet, 132. 
ducat, 133. 
dull-eyed, 152. 
dwell, 136. 

eanling, 135. 
enow, 155. 
envious, 151. 
envy, 151. 
Erebus, 163. 
estate, 146, 151. 
exceeding (adverb), 128. 
excrement, 149. 

fancy (=love), 148. 

fall (transitive), 135. 

faithless, 141. 

father, 139. 

fear, 137, 154, 165. 

fearful, 137. 

fill-horse, 139. 

fire (dissyllab^^), 146. 

force (of), 160. 

fond, 146, 152. 

fool (adjective), 130, 146. 

for, 134 

forfeit, 152. 

forth, 128, 130, 142. 



fraught, 145. 
full (at), 165. 

gaberdine, 135. 
gaged, 130. 
garnished, 155. 
gear, 130. 
glister, 145. 
go to, 136. 
Goodwins, 147. 
gramercy, 139. 
gratify, 160. 
guard, 140. 
gudgeon, 129. 
guiled, 149. 

had better, 132. 
hairs, 150. 
hangman, 157. 
high-day, 147. 
hit, 151. 
hood, 143. 
hose (round), 132. 
husbandry, 153. 
Hyrcanian, 144. 

I wis, 146. 
if (that), 143, 151. 
imposition, 132, 153. 
insculped, 144. 
interest, 134. 
inter'gatories, 165. 

Jacks, 154. 
Jewess, 142. 
judgment, 157. 
jump, 146. 

keep (=dwell), 152. 
knap, 147. 
knave, 137. 

level, 131. 
likely, 147. 
living. 150, 165. 
lodged, 156. 
loose, 156. 
lover, 153. 

main, 156. 
manage, 153. 



1 68 



INDEX OF WORDS EXPLAINED. 



mark (God bless the), 138. 

martlet, 146. 

marry, 138. 

match, 147. 

may, 133. 

me (expletive), 135, 139. 

mere, 151. 

methought, 134. 

mincing, 154. 

misbeliever, 135. 

mislike, 137. 

moe, 129. 

moiety, 156. 

music, 162. 

muttons, 136. 

mutual, 163. 

myself (subject), 137. 

naughty, 152. 

needs, 133, 141, 159. 

nice, 137. 

nor (double negative), 131. 

obdurate (accent of), 155. 

obliged, 142. 

obscure (accent of), 144. 

occasion, 130, 155. 

ocean (trisyllable), 127. 

o'erlooked, 148. 

of (=about), 135, 165. 

of (^by, with), 141. 

of (^for), 142. 

of (omitted), 1 30, 1 60. 

old (intensive), 161. 

on't, 143. 

ostent, 141, 145. 

other (plural), 128. 

overpeer, 127. 

over-weathered, 143. 

pageant, 127. 

pain (=pains), 140. 

parcel, 133. 

part (=depart), 145. 

parts, 157. 

passion, 145, 157. 

pat^h, 142. 

patme, 162. 

pawned, 155. 

peize, 148. 

pied, 135. 

pilled, 135. 

please (impersonal), 134, 136. 

pleasure (verb), 133. 

poesy, :64. 

port, 130, 151. 

possess, 135, 156. 

post, 147. 

posy, 164. 

prefer, 140. 

presently, 131. 

prest, 130. 

prevent, 128, 



proper, 132. 

quaint, 141, 154. 
question, 156. 

rath, 132. 

rather, 132. 

raw, 154. 

reason (^converse), 145. 

regreet, 146. 

remorse, 156. 

respect, 129, 163. 

respective, 164. 

rest (set up one's), 139. 

Rialto, 134. 

riping, 145. 

road, 165. 

Sabaoth, 156. 

Sabbath, 156. 

sand-blind, 138. 

scant, 137. 

scrubbed, 164. 

Scylla, 155. 

season, 158. 

self (adjective), 130. 

sensible, 145, 146. 

shall, 130. 

shall (^will), 151. 

should, 130, 151. 

show, 158. 

shrewd, 151. 

Sibyl, 133. 

slubber, 145. 

smug, 147. 

so . . . as, 133. 

so (=if), 150. 

so (=so be it), 136. 

so (omitted), 154. 

something (adverb), 130. 

sometime, 130. 

sometimes, 13Q. 

sonties, 139. 

sooth, 127. 

soothsayer, 127. 

Sophy, 137. 

sore, 165. 

sort, 164. 

speak me fair, 159. 

sped, 146. 

spet, 135. 

spirit (monosyllable), 140. 

squander, 134. 

starve, 158. 

state, 151. 

stead, 133. 

sterve, 158. 

still, 128, 149, 159. 

success, 151. 

suited, 132, 155. 

sweet, 155. 

table (of the hand), 140. 



teaches (plural), 136. 
that (with conj.), 143, iSS- 
thee (=3thou), 140. 
therefore (position of), 129. 
thorough, 144. 
through, 144. 
throughfare, 144. 
throughly, 144, 158. 
thrift, 131. 
throstle, 132. 
to-night, 142. 
too-too, 143. 
tranect, 154. 
Tripolis, 134. 
tricksy, 155. 
tucket, 163. 
turquoise, 148. 

uncapable, 155. 
undertook, 141. 
undervalued, 130, 144. 
unthrift, 162. 
upon, 129. 
usance, 134. 
use, 159, 160. 
usury, 134. 

vail, 128. 

vantage, 150. 

vasty, 144. 

venture, 128. 

very (adjective), 151, 159. 

via! 138. 

vild (=vile), 132. 

virtue, 164. 

waft (=:wafted), 161. 
waste, 153. 
wealth, 165. 
what (=:what a), 141. 
what (of impatience), 141. 
where (=where3s), 156. 
which (omitted), 131. 
which (the), 133, 153. 
whiles, 133. 

who (omitted), 129, 156. 
who (:=which), 144. 
who (=whom), 131, 143. 
who (with supplementary 

pronoun), 136. 
will, 142. 

will (verb omitted), 141. 
wit, 137. 

with (omitted), 143. 
withal (could not do), 154. 
would, 134. 
writ, 141. 
wroth, 146. 

yeanling, 135. 
yet (with negative), 146. 
younger (^younker), 146. 
ywis, 146. 



